Edgar and Sabin: The Kindred Lights
by Narratorway
Summary: Sabin visits his brother, but before they have a chance to reminisce, Edgar recieves a letter that could mean the end of kingdom... Work in Progress, chapters updated when finished.
1. Chapter 1: Sunrise

Edgar and Sabin  
  
The Kindred Lights  
  
  
  
The sun rose slowly over the desert, which was not at all to the liking of the man robed heavily in cloth standing atop the tallest tower of Castle Figaro. The night guardsman (as he called himself, the official term had been changed to watchman, but old habits die hard) would've given up all his limbs if it would just make the sun come up faster. No small price for him, seeing as how he couldn't feel them anyway. He breathed hard into his bare hands. The warmth was extremely refreshing but not very long lasting and within seconds he was hugging himself again and shivering despite the large layers of clothing he was tented in.  
  
Yet despite his apparently poor lot in life, the guardsman (hmph, watchman indeed, there's nothing to watch in the desert!) felt not the least bit sorry for himself. Aside from being the proud fella he was, he also understood there were more than a few other guards who were going through the same torture and if they could weather it, there was no reason he couldn't either. Besides, he had something none of them had.  
  
Company.  
  
Behind him, the trapdoor to the roof was unlatched from below and slowly opened up. The guardsman paid no heed to it. Out of the hole came a man, tall, blonde, dressed in dark green clothing.  
  
"You know Ralse, you are a lousy guardsman." The man walked up to ledge next to the accused.  
  
"Oh really?" the guardsman replied, still staring at the sun, as if eyeing it longer would make it rise faster, "Is that why they call me a watchman now?"  
  
The young man sighed, "You're just never going to give that up are you?"  
  
"No sir." Ralse spoke with strong conviction in his voice, "I never saw the point in the change in the first place my liege."  
  
"A sign of the times my old friend. To guard is to defend against those who trespass against us. And who now is left that could endanger the kingdom?"  
  
"Aye, I suppose that's true. But for me, it's the principle, if ya take my meaning."  
  
"I do. I do. It was the chancellor's idea, so I'm afraid your gonna have to take it up with him." Suddenly he shivered, "Whew! Is it ever cold out here."  
  
"Yeah," the guardsman quipped, "but it's a dry freeze."  
  
It was a bad joke but they both laughed nonetheless, it kept them warm. Edgar Figaro talked with the guard for the next hour or so before getting ready to head back down. It was mostly nonsense talk, complaints about living in the desert and no longer getting proper night clothes from Narshe, and whether the people up there really breathed steam.  
  
"I just can't believe it sir." The guardsman protested, "I mean, it's just as cold out here as it is up there, and you don't see us spewing forth vapors like some kinda dragon."  
  
"You don't see ice forming on our battlements either, despite it being well below freezing. Moisture, my friend, is what they have and we don't. You said so yourself, it's a dry freeze. Hah, who would ever guess that a desert could be one of the coldest places on earth?" Edgar stared at the now fully risen sun. "But not for long. Well, I'm off Ralse, and by my clock, so are you. Care to come down with me."  
  
"If it's all the same to you sir, I'd rather stay up here. The morning watchmen should've been here a half hour ago, and I have a few choice words to speak to him. But I would like to ask you a question before ya go."  
  
"Shoot."  
  
"Well, sir, yessee…well. I'm just curious, mind you, as to why you're always coming up here to the center tower in the morning. You have access to the roof of your room after all, but besides that, I just can't understand why anyone would possible come up here if they could help it."  
  
The young king paused before answering. "Ralse, how long has it been since you've had day duty?"  
  
"Oh, well, hmm… I'd say, three years."  
  
"Really. Why so long?"  
  
"Oh I don't know. Got used to this I guess."  
  
"Well, you go to sleep before that sun there shows it's true face. It's just as hot during the day, as it is cold during the night, and one thing that helps get people through the day is waking up early to feel that last chill bit of night before the sun rises so you have something cold to remember for the rest of the day. So, I wouldn't chew out your replacement too much. He's gonna regret being late ere the day is over, more than I think you can imagine."  
  
With a smile Edgar climbed down the stairs and closed the trapdoor behind him. He wondered, as he often did after his visit's to the tower, whether anyone would think it odd that a royal guard could speak so leisurely to their own king. And Ralse was one of the more reserved ones, there were guards who would called Edgar by the name Eddie. Eddie the Engineer.  
  
Edgar chuckled as he walked down the stairs to the second-floor hall. He liked that name immensely, and he began to think about how lucky he was. In no other country that he'd ever visited in his life was the king ever treated like a normal person. They were always revered, and to a not-so- small degree, feared as god-like icons of power and authority. Whether for good or ill, they were seen as a better people than everyone else. The idea always made Edgar extremely uncomfortable and grateful that things were different in Figaro. There he was king, but he was also Edgar.  
  
Or Eddie the Engineer.  
  
He chuckled again as he approached the door to the throne room. The two door guards there smiled.  
  
"Something funny, lord?" asked the one on the right.  
  
"Oh, it's nothing Charlie. Just have a good feeling about this morning."  
  
"Well then here's some news you might like," chipped in the one on the left (incidentally named Robert), "we got a messenger in here not less than five minutes ago, and he looked pretty excited. He's waiting for you in there right now."  
  
"Really?" asked Edgar with a raised eyebrow. "Well, let's not waste his time."  
  
"Right." Both the guards claimed at once, and with that, opened the door for their king.  
  
Inside it was very much like what one would expect from a throne room. The long red carpet that ran the length of the outer hall continued to it's end at the foot of the small steps leading to the thrones. A line of pillars followed the edge of the carpet running the length of the throne room and at the foot of each stood the king's personal guard. Behind the thrones were draped two tapestries sewn in the red and blue colors of the House of Figaro. Walking in Edgar saw the messenger, a young fellow no older than twenty by the look of him, staring up at them. Beside him stood the chancellor.  
  
"Oh! My liege." He cried and bowed his head. The messenger turned quickly around.  
  
Edgar shook his head. The chancellor, who knew Edgar longer than most anyone, would never accept Edgar as anyone but the King of all the lands of Figaro. His version of formal would be to announce Edgar as Edgar of the house Figaro etc. etc. and some other such nonsense. Oh well, you can't change minds, so why try?  
  
"Good morning chancellor. And who might you be?"  
  
The messenger began look around nervously at anything his eyes could spot, as long as they didn't spot Edgar. "Well…uh…sir, I'm…uh…that is to say my…um…well…," the boy stammered on before suddenly shrieking, "Here's a letter for you sir! I was told to give to you personally as quickly as possible!" With a jerk, he thrust out his arm holding out the letter on the tips of his fingers. The look on his face would make you think the paper was hotter than the desert sands. Edgar just stood there, staring at the shaking stick in front of him, desperately trying to stifle a giggle.  
  
"We-hell…ahem. Well, it looks to be of great importance. You did well to bring it here as soon as you did. You have my gratitude, young man. Thank you." Edgar took the letter in as stuffy a manner as he could muster. "You are excused."  
  
The boy practically ran to the door.  
  
Edgar turned to the chancellor. "Okay, I give up. What the hell was that all about?"  
  
"I haven't the foggiest your highness. I can only assume that he must have heard false rumors about your behavior as a royal." The chancellor either didn't bother to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, or he couldn't.  
  
"Then he's not from around here, is he?"  
  
"As a matter of fact, no. By pure chance I remember seeing him once before. I believe he was one of the recruits we took in from Kohlingen. Hmm, certainly is a nervous young man, is he not your highn—"  
  
The chancellor turned to Edgar and found him staring at the letter with wide eyes. His jaw was hanging down.  
  
"Your highness? Is something the matter." The chancellor peered down at the letter, "Oh my, but that's the royal seal! But, but you are the only one who can make that seal. I-I don't understan—"  
  
Edgar tore off the wax seal and practically shredded the envelope. The chancellor noticed the expression on the king's face had changed from dumb struck to anticipation. As Edgar read the letter it changed again to joy. He laughed, the kind of loud short laugh that could easily be mistaken for a cheer.  
  
"Your highness, I ask again is something the ma—?"  
  
Edgar was suddenly aware of the chancellor again. "Hmm? What? Oh no, of course not! Don't be stupid!"  
  
"I beg your pardon, my liege! I'm afraid I really don't underst—"  
  
"What's not to understand, chancellor?" Edgar asked. When the only reply he got was a blank stare, he gave and exasperated sigh then grabbed the chancellor by the shoulders and stared directly into his eyes. "Okay, if you don't understand, then ask yourself these three easy questions: 1) Who else, besides yours truly could create the royal seal? 2) What news could possibly get me in this kind of uproar? and 3) Why don't you just ask me?"  
  
Edgar released his grip and stood in front of the bewildered chancellor with his arms crossed. The chancellor, though shaken, decided to play along and after a few moments of thought, the obvious conclusion came to him. He looked up at Edgar with a pale face.  
  
"Oh no."  
  
Edgar beamed, "That's right! My brother's coming to town!" 


	2. Chapter 1a: The Enigma

Of all the nations in the history of the world, Figaro was the oddball, an enigma that reveled in it's rebellion. The nation that gave the world a raspberry. Many historians actually argued over whether Figaro as a country ever existed, if it's 'creation' wasn't just a hoax of the House of Figaro that spread out into the rest of the world. The fact that respected researchers would take such a notion seriously was a testament to the nations ability to confound.  
  
Take, for example, Figaro's history. Like most other countries, Figaro's fabled beginnings are a mixture of local legends with a strong connection to the ruling family. In it, it tells the tale of a sand castle that was built in the middle of the largest desert in all the world in the space of one night, and promptly sunk. The next night, another castle was erected. It sunk too. Then another and another and another. Finally the largest and heaviest castle of all was built, and yet it did not sink. It did not, because it now rested on all the other castles that had been sunk before. And so, the one man responsible for all these castles climbed to the top of the tallest tower and claimed that all the lands that the sands of the desert reached, would be his forever. Suddenly a storm was created above the castle and blew half of the desert across the mountains, making all those lands his. As a result of the storm, many stray grains of sand were scattered in all directions. They landed on the peoples of the earth and they turned towards the great desert and said, "What the hell, let's make him king."  
  
The difference between Figaro's tale of creation and that of the other nations of the world is immediately obvious. It's a joke, and is considered throughout the land of Figaro as such, whereas the stories behind the creations of fellow nations are often revered and considered sacred among their own people (this fact is considered the largest contributor to the argument that the 'nation' of Figaro does not actually exist). What is even more bizarre is the possibility that the story could be an accurate recollection of the origins of Figaro. Much of the supposed history of Figaro is recorded and stored in the public library, yet many key historical events in the country are told through different scrolls with important conflicting facts, making a true chronology of Figaro difficult. Despite this, Figaro's actual origins seem to indicate that many of the peoples in the lands of what is now Figaro just 'decided' to unite and become a kingdom and after many unsuccessful attempts created a castle in the middle of the desert, apparently to keep the appointed king from causing too much trouble (originally king's of the country were voted into the throne, often whether they wanted to be king or not). Even more bizarre is the fact that the new castle did, in fact, unite the separate towns as a kingdom. Since being placed in the middle of the desert with no food or water, the surrounding towns shared in the upkeep and survival of the castle. Eventually, the castle became the center of commerce for the kingdom and the king could now exercise more power as the hierarchy developed. The country, which for the longest time had no real name, was eventually changed to Figaro after the family of Figaro established their rule (popular sentiment claims that members of the family were being voted kings so often, the people eventually said to hell with it and gave the entire family the job for life, so to speak). It should be noted that to this day, the people of Figaro do not believe their country has a true name, the name Figaro is just to keep foreigners from becoming lost.  
  
This history would however seem inaccurate, since Kohlingen, the town next to the desert over the mountains that the fairy tale refers to, is beyond the borders of Figaro. Looking through the ancient texts we find that this was not always so. It seems there was a pass over the northern mountains that at sometime or another was blocked and abandoned. Since Kohlingen no longer had access to the castle, they were no longer able to participate effectively with national affairs and so were 'booted out of the club'. Narshe, it seems was also considered for a short time to be part of the Figaran state, until they no longer participated in the care of the castle, although still actively traded in the markets held there (Narshe was Figaro's only source of minerals and metals which would play an important part in history later on). The last remaining major contributor, now know as South Figaro, did not seem to mind, though a slight rift in relations did occur. The common saying was that a man from Narshe is tough enough to handle Narshe's cold, but they're jelly everywhere else.  
  
This bizarre and uniquely Figaran cynicism and flippant attitude towards conventional ideas of nationalism is the polar opposite of the fierce loyalty and stubbornness the people of Figaro are famous for. But recent historical events prove that these seemingly conflicting attitudes actually make Figaro stronger. Even after the monumental metamorphosis that ripped the world asunder, Figaro still stood and through it's stubbornness, retained it's unique 'Figaro logic'. It's this so-called logic that hides the true strength of the Figaran nation.  
  
However that strength has for the longest time, slowly been decaying under the very noses of the people, at the most unlikely source, and for the most unlikely reason… 


	3. Chapter 2: A Brother and a Letter

The day Sabin arrived at Figaro castle, he arrived on foot. So one can only imagine how the guardsmen posted at the west cave entrance reacted when this muscle-pumped blonde fellow refused a chocobo. It couldn't have been any worse than the reaction from the porter posted at the front gate of the castle.  
  
For ten minutes straight, he gawked (a poor thing to do for any length of time when in the desert) as a figure appeared on the horizon and walked towards the castle. Slowly he began to discern features of the man. Rather tall and thickly built, he wore a loose blue vest shirt with a baggy pair of long johns. He was blonde with a short beard and carried a large pack over his right shoulder. Eventually he arrived and trotted up to the front stairs of the castle. Right up to the porter, where he stopped and dropped his bag.  
  
"H-halt!" cried the astonished guard.  
  
The man chuckled at him, "Ok."  
  
"What business have you here?"  
  
"I'm here to see my brother. He lives here."  
  
"And what is his name?"  
  
The man paused for a moment, as if thinking up a name to give him. "Ed."  
  
"We don't have anyone named 'Ed' here."  
  
"I figured as much. Here." The man stooped down and rummaged through his bag. Eventually he found what he was looking for and gave it to the porter. "Could you give this letter to the person in charge for me then, just in case he comes this way."  
  
The looked at the letter suspiciously, then turned it over. His eyes widened and he dropped his spear.  
  
"This…this…this is…"  
  
The man peered over and down at the letter, then at the porter. "This is the royal seal you mean? Yeah, yeah I guess it is."  
  
The porter looked up at the man and said very slowly and cautiously, "Who are you?"  
  
"I'm the king's brother." The man said impatiently. "Now could you please open the gate. It's rather hot out here."  
  
The porter first picked up his weapon and laid it beside the wall before granting the man's request. He gave the man a displeased look. "Any reason you didn't tell me you were Sabin in the first place?"  
  
"You looked like you were slacking off." The man grinned at him and walked through.  
  
The porter would've slammed the gate behind him, if it weren't so damned heavy.  
  
"Hmph. This is what I get for being a half-hour late for a stupid post!"  
  
Sabin entered the throne room with no further interruptions. Almost all the royal guards were notified of the impending visit and Sabin was a fairly easy person to identify, all things considered. The porter was unfortunately a last minute replacement who had not been properly informed. Still, it seemed to make little difference, since Edgar was not in the throne room.  
  
He entered to find that no one was there, not even the guards. Sabin didn't seem all too surprised, and marched right up to the thrones, sitting down on the left throne. And there he sat, apparently waiting for something, for minutes (maybe even hours) uncounted. The most extensive thing he did during that whole moment in time was shift his feet. After which he heard a sound to his left and the moment was broken.  
  
He hopped off the throne and explored the left end of the room. There, as on the opposite side, was the entrance to the kings personal chamber which was hidden behind heavy draperies. Sabin walked through, passing through a short hallway before coming to the room itself, which had no real door aside from a drapery of beads. The sounds had continued while he had walked in, mutterings and the sounds of metal objects and assorted junk being shuffled around.  
  
The room was large, but so full of…well…stuff, that it had about as much room for movement as a closet. The room had an immediate effect of a room from two different worlds being split right down the middle. On the right was a room with a desk piled with papers. Surrounding the desk was jewelry, armor, weapons, robes, all manner of antiques of Figaro. On the left, however, was the source of the sounds which was hunched under a desk amidst piles of what anyone else would consider junk. Gears, wires, and all sorts of metal contraptions that could induce a headache just looking at them were piled about. But amidst the chaos, if one concentrated enough, a haphazard sense of order could be seen. In a circle about the desk were piles of stuff that slowly progressed from piles to partially formed equipment to actual fully-realized tools. Though the use of the tools were a mystery to all but their creator.  
  
Of whom, for the past two minutes, Sabin was observing looking for something under his desk, oblivious to all. It was quite a comical scene, as the rear end of the fellow stuck out like an chocobo when it's eating from the trough. Sabin leaned against the wall and shook his head.  
  
"Brother."  
  
THUMP!  
  
The man backed out from below the desk, vigorously rubbing the top of his head with one hand. He looked up at Sabin with the quintessential look of annoyance.  
  
"I suppose you knew that was going to happen?"  
  
Sabin just smiled.  
  
The man got up slowly still rubbing his head. "Don't you know how to knock?"  
  
"No, but apparently you do." Then he began to laugh. Then they both began to laugh. Then they hugged each other.  
  
"How are you Sabin?"  
  
"I'm good, Edgar, I'm good."  
  
They both headed out towards the throne room and continued to talk. Mostly it was Edgar asking questions about Sabin.  
  
"Lost track of you for awhile. What have you been up to? I'd heard you've moved to Narshe."  
  
"Yeah. I've been helping people move back in. It hasn't been all that easy. The town is for the most part cleared out, but the caves are proving to be real difficult."  
  
"I can imagine. And without the caves to mine, what's the point? But hey, wait a minute. Don't the moogles live in those caves? What about Mog, and that enormous man-beast of his?"  
  
Sabin shook his head, "Can't find 'im. The moogles are gone, who knows to where."  
  
"What? How can that be? For crying out loud Sabin, you got off the airship with Mog and the yeti."  
  
Sabin shrugged, "We almost immediately parted ways after the ship took off. He headed towards Narshe and I towards Master Duncan's house."  
  
"Oh yeah. I almost forgot about him. So how is that tough oak anyway?"  
  
"He died about a year and a half ago."  
  
Edgar stopped walking. "Oh Sabin, I'm so sorry."  
  
Sabin turned to him. "Oh don't be. It's like what he said to me. 'Hell boy, what'dya think was gonna happen? I was gonna live till my skin fell off? I had a good run and I have no regrets, you shouldn't either.'  
  
I went to Narshe shortly thereafter and found that people had come back. They were having a tough time of it, so I decided to help out. Before that, I was actually planning on coming back here to stay."  
  
They both continued on. They were headed towards Edgar's personal quarters in the east wing of the castle. This whole day had been pre-planned as the king's day off, in a manner of speaking, when news of Sabin's visit was announced, and Edgar was not going to waste a moment of it. He was hoping to show Sabin his new inventions sometime today or tomorrow.  
  
"Anything exciting happen?" Sabin inquired.  
  
"Not really. I've gotten a few letters from the other's you know, but that's about it."  
  
Sabin paused as if trying to remember something he wanted to say, then widened his eyes and snapped his fingers as he remembered. "Oh yeah. So tell me Edgar, what in the world is going on in South Figaro?"  
  
"Hmm?" Edgar's glance showed he wasn't registering "What do you mean?"  
  
"I came out of the harbor to a big town meeting or something. It seemed like the whole town was congregating out in front of the mansion. I asked the guy who owned the chocobo stable, but he said he didn't get involved much in town affairs. I'd assume you must've known what was going on."  
  
"Afraid not. Communication with South Figaro had become more difficult lately and messages are received later than they used to. I'm sure I'll be hearing about it in a day or two."  
  
"Really? How odd…"  
  
"Hmm? Why's that?"  
  
"Well, it's just that I walked most of the way here. I find it hard to believe that I could walk faster than a messenger riding a chocobo."  
  
"There's more to it than that Sabin." Edgar stopped walking. "Figaro lost a lot of people in the holocaust. Those in the castle and towns were relatively safe, but Figaran soldiers out on the field or at small outposts…well, they had no chance. So now we've been going through some massive recruiting to replace them. A lot of the rookies are, in fact, from Kohlingen."  
  
"Really? Does that mean that they're becoming a part of the kingdom."  
  
They began walking again. They were taking the bridge to the king's quarters, Sabin had had enough of the sand for one day. He looked at Edgar, who was looking at the ground with his hands behind his back. He smiled as he realized how much like a king Edgar really looked, on the inside.  
  
"It's being considered." Edgar continued, taking no notice of Sabin. "They need the protection and trade we can give them, now that they're cut off from Jidoor. We have the resources that will allow them to build a seaport. Well, in any case, we will."  
  
They stopped in front of the door and Edgar opened it for Sabin, bowing lowly. Sabin curtsied. They laughed as they entered.  
  
Inside it was a fairly bare room. To the right was a fireplace, the left a staircase to the front door. At the end of the room was a small table with two chairs. Next to it was the entrance, so to speak, to the sleeping quarters, out of which came a young lady holding a pile of linen. She almost dropped the pile when she spotted the two men.  
  
"Oh! I'm so sorry sir! I..I.."  
  
"It is quite alright my lady." Replied Edgar as he rushed to the girl's aid, which she really didn't need.  
  
Sabin however, walked slowly over to the fireplace and leaned against the wall next to it. He then promptly put his hand over his face and tried desperately to avoid laughing at the spectacle his brother was about to make. The scene was quite ridiculous and pushing Sabin's limits in terms of good taste, and just when he thought he couldn't take anymore of his brother's horrible lines and setups, it was over.  
  
Edgar closed the door behind the young girl and smiled.  
  
Sabin shook his head, "You know, I still haven't figured out what is up with that ridiculous façade of yours."  
  
Edgar turned him with a playfully puzzled expression on his face, "Why what ever do you mean?"  
  
Sabin pointed towards the door, "That! That nonsense right there!"  
  
Edgar sighed as he walked over to his chair. "It keeps them happy."  
  
"No, it doesn't and I wasn't talking about her. I was talking about you."  
  
"Me? Well, while my style has seemed to be lacking as of late, I wouldn't consider it nons—."  
  
"Don't give me that! You don't have a style, Edgar. Your no Don Juan, and I don't know why you pretend to be a bad one."  
  
Edgar sat down in a chair and frowned at Sabin. "I most certainly don't pretend to—."  
  
"Oh yes you do. That character I just saw was sleazy, pompous, and arrogant. Everything you are not." Sabin let out a deep sigh, "Edgar, I was with you through the thick and thin of it. I rarely saw that person I saw just now, greeting that young girl with a tacky line and peacock posturing. You brought him out when you needed to and it saved you from being taken by the empire. I know that was no accident. Maybe that's why you created that persona, I don't know. I just don't understand why it's still here. You can't honestly believe women find that attractive do you?"  
  
"You're serious aren't' you? Look, is it so wrong for me to have a little fun once in awhile? Must a king carry the burden of his kingdom on his shoulders twenty-four seven?"  
  
"Oh is that it?" asked Sabin, looking at his brother as if in a new light, "Is that what this is all about? I can't believe after all these years, you're still scared of the crown."  
  
"What in the world are you talking about?"  
  
"You were so different when we were young, when dad was still alive. You were the quintessential bookworm. It was all I could do to get you to stop studying and come out and play. And heaven help me should I ever try to convince you to cut out on a class! Always at the books, hell you're concept of leisure was to read those blasted mechanic manuals. I never could get you come raise hell with me."  
  
"Yeah," chuckled Edgar softly with the distant voice of a man reminiscing, "you were the bane of dad's existence weren't you?"  
  
"And why do you think I was such a hell raiser Edgar?"  
  
"I honestly don't know. I never understood what that was all about. It was as if you wanted dad to be mad at you."  
  
"That's exactly what I wanted!" Sabin pointed at his brother for emphasis. He stood up and paced around in front of Edgar. "Angry, frustrated, exhausted, I didn't care. I just wanted to be with him. And that seemed the only way to do it; he was the only person I'd listen to. I couldn't stand it, dad being the king. I just couldn't stand him being behind closed doors, outta reach. Getting into trouble was how I dealt with it. I guess shoving your face in those books was what you did to deal with it."  
  
"I wanted dad to be proud of me."  
  
Sabin stopped suddenly and looked at Edgar. He was slumped forward looking at the floor with his head resting on top of his hands. He wasn't talking to Sabin so much as he was talking to himself, remember things long forgotten.  
  
"I didn't have to be with him all the time. I knew that he was there, that he'd always be there, and that would be enough. Whenever he did call for us, you'd always twiddle your thumbs or hum a tune or some kind of nonsense when he lectured us. I felt like beating you senseless whenever you did that. How dare you just dismiss what our father has to say. Don't you know that he wants to make us into the great kings? Well, I wasn't going to disappoint him. I was gonna do everything in my power to become a king he could be proud of."  
  
Edgar paused for what seemed an eternity to Sabin. Then he took a deep breath and continued, "Then he died, you left, and I was now king of the lands of Figaro. My god Sabin, I never felt so alone and scared."  
  
There was a long silence and Sabin just stared at his brother in a kind of awe. Hearing Edgar, he suddenly realized how terrifying that must have been, and he became filled with guilt and shame. When his brother needed him the most, he turned and fled.  
  
"Do you know that for the longest time I hated you?" Edgar's voice shook him from his thoughts. "I felt so angry, resentful, jealous, towards you."  
  
Sabin walked over and sat down in the other chair. He suddenly felt exhausted. Must've been from the long walk through the desert, they can take a lot out of a person. He wasn't sure what to say to his brother, but oddly enough, he wouldn't have to say anything.  
  
A knocking came from the side door. A muffled voice could be heard past the door, easily identified between the two brothers.  
  
Edgar got up and sighed impatiently. "I swear, the chancellor is the only person in this castle who thinks I don't deserve a day off." Edgar was actually quite thankful for the interruption. Though he didn't know it, so was Sabin.  
  
Opening the door, the chancellor almost fell on Edgar. He was out of breath and was gripping a letter tightly in his left hand. He practically shoved it into the palm Edgar's hand.  
  
"My…my…my…" he panted.  
  
"Oh it's always about you isn't it?" called Sabin from his chair.  
  
The chancellor looked at Sabin with an expression of disdain and exhaustion. "Mast…Mas…Master Sab…"  
  
Sabin smiled, "Please, chancellor. Call me Sa…Sa…Sa…Sabin."  
  
By then the chancellor had caught his breath enough to speak fairly coherently. "Master Sabin, this is no time for jokes. There is news that…that…"  
  
"Oh come on man, it's like Edgar said, 'Can't you just—"  
  
"Sabin, be quiet!"  
  
The command, command mind you, had come from Edgar. The tone of it shocked Sabin to silence. He looked at his brother, who was staring intently at the letter. Slowly, almost cautiously, he walked towards his brother. "What is it?"  
  
Edgar looked up at the chancellor. His expression would be difficult to describe.  
  
"This came from South Figaro?"  
  
"Yes, my liege. It arrived not five minutes ago."  
  
Sabin was feeling a growing fear climb up his spine. "Brother, what is it?"  
  
Edgar turned to Sabin. "It's a declaration of independence." 


	4. Chapter 2a: On That Day

In one day an entire planet was restructured. A year later, that same planet was instantly deprived of what had popularly been referred to as magic. This had monumental effects that reached into every level of the world's systems, entire species of animal and plant life that relied on magical forces to exist were wiped out instantly and would live on only in fairy tales. Long dormant viruses and bacteria emerged for which no animal had yet developed an immunity to. One can only imagine how such quick changes could affect a planet's life systems, especially when one takes into account a planet's incredibly slow rate of change (as compared to that of a life form). The creatures that survived would now have to adapt to a world that had wholly changed at a fraction of the time lightning takes to strike. Among this list of survivors stands the human being.  
  
By all reasoning, the humans are aware of the world on only one level: physical reality. The rest is just philosophical or evangelical guesses. And humans (or more popularly known as people), taking into account size, are physically the weakest creatures to ever walk the world, in every sense of the word. Yet they survive, not only survive, but flourish. They do so because they are the only species who function on two levels: the physical and the psychological. People do not live through their instincts and so are no longer under the control of the rules of any life cycles, they have reached someplace beyond that. So nature had no guard against them, no natural way to keep their numbers in the proper ratio with the rest of the world. They are beyond control. Or are they…  
  
While humans may only be aware of one level of existence, that hardly means they aren't effected by other levels. Quite the contrary, since humans are only aware of the physical, they have no true defense against their own psyche. People may not be controlled by their instincts, but they are most certainly controlled by their emotions. As such they create their own life- system unique to humans alone, that only crudely resembles their natural counterparts. These are popularly known as societies and/or cultures and they tend to follow rules that are the polar opposite of natural instinct.  
  
Still nature has not let go of humans completely, so they are still driven (not controlled) largely by their base instincts and are still only aware(acknowledge) of the physical. So when something as traumatic as the events of the past year occur, people – while buffered – are not completely immune.  
  
To see the psychological reactions to such massive physical stimuli is no doubt a fascinating spectacle to witness. The end result of which, would be completely unpredictable… 


	5. Chapter 3: The Weight of the Crown

Edgar was not sitting on the throne, he was slouched there. His hands rested limply on the armrests and his legs were stretched out. He had the posture of a king, a very old king. An ancient king who long ago gave up any wild notions of freedom or escape. A king who loved and cared for his people above his own well being, and was being drained of life because of it. Ambassadors had just been sent to South Figaro to discuss terms with the rebel leaders, but they were also meant to come back and report on the situation. They were to analyze and determine the strength of the rebellion, and whether it would could be quelled with force. Edgar had just sent them and now ordered that the throne room be emptied for awhile.  
  
It had been maybe a week since the letter arrived, Edgar wasn't very sure. He hadn't gotten much sleep since then, in fact he couldn't remember sleeping at all, although it might've happened when he was off his guard. But ever since the letter had arrived, there hadn't been much time to rest. Meetings with all kinds of people, for all kinds of reasons. It was a new lesson for Edgar. Being an ally to the Empire forced Edgar to deal with a lot of the 'distasteful' aspects of politics. That had been a lesson too, but he thought it'd be the last one. This, well, this was…  
  
It was surreal, that was the best, well the only way really, to describe it. Sabin was sitting on the throne across from Edgar, his mother's chair. He stared at his brother, but didn't see him. He saw his father, a strong man, a strong soul, desperately fighting the crown, the weight of it. He saw the head bow forward, the body slowly weaken, and he felt nothing but pity for him. He had no idea that this was what it was like to bear a kingdom. For crying out loud, he was only a child! All his daddy did was talk to strangers, instead of his own son. How was he to know what it was like? He didn't know, and he was so sorry. He didn't know.  
  
"You know, I'm not a very good engineer. I just studied it so much, I had to be good."  
  
Sabin was suddenly aware of his brother again, as well as the fact that he'd been crying. He rubbed his eyes, hoping his brother would mistake the action for fatigue.  
  
"What are you talking about? You're the best engineer I've ever known."  
  
Edgar got up, he couldn't hide the effort it took. He walked over to stop in front of Sabin and looked up. He smiled.  
  
"So that's what a king looks like."  
  
Sabin smiled back and jumped down. "So, now what?"  
  
"I have some business to take care of, so go ahead and tell the guards that I'm not to be disturbed. You can go, I don't know, explore."  
  
Sabin raised an eyebrow at that last remark, "Oh, well thank you your highness. But if it's all the same to you, I think I'll stay right here."  
  
Edgar was already walking towards the draperies. He looked like he would fall to the ground at each step and when he pushed aside the cloth, it seemed to take more effort than one would think necessary. Sabin followed him in. There he was, sitting in front of the desk on the side of the room filled with the history of Figaro. There must have been at least a couple thousand pages scattered amongst the desk. And amidst the paper jungle was Edgar, he was either looking at, crossing off, or signing one paper after another with a blank look on his face. The only light in the room was the desk light and when Sabin caught a good look at his brother, the light accentuated his harried face. His crusty eyes and the bags under them, his cracked lips and sullen face in general, Edgar was truly an ugly sight to see.  
  
"Brother." He called softly. Edgar ignored him.  
  
"Brother."  
  
Nothing.  
  
"Brother. Brother…" Sabin called to his brother until he would look up, never raising his voice or changing his gentle tone. He knew his brother would acknowledge him eventually. Edgar looked up.  
  
"Brother, you need sleep."  
  
Edgar nodded slowly. "I know, I know." His voice was barely above a whisper. "But sleep is a luxury I can't afford."  
  
Sabin shook his head and walked over to his brother and grabbed him by the shoulders. "I know, but nevertheless, you're going to get some rest. Come on." He helped Edgar up and put one of his arms around his shoulder. They left the room and headed towards the door leading to the inner court.  
  
"You know Sabin, I could have the guards come in here and take you away."  
  
"You can't yell that loud without fainting. You haven't taken the time to eat much either."  
  
"Sabin, what am I gonna do? I just don't know what to do."  
  
"Don't worry about it. The answer'll come to you in a dream."  
  
They walked out of the room and headed towards Edgar's personal quarters. Sabin led Edgar to the bed and then sat down on the chair next to the table just outside the sleeping quarters. Edgar fell into his bed and stared at the ceiling. He felt so weak, so weak, yet he could not sleep.  
  
"Why? Why is all this happening?"  
  
"Odd time to start asking about the meaning of life, isn't it?" Sabin sighed. He hadn't had all that much more sleep than his brother.  
  
"What have I done? Why can't I see it? Why can't I see what's wrong? Why, goddammit? Am I that horrible a king?"  
  
"That's nonsense Edgar and I don't want to hear you say anything like that again! Understand?" Sabin stood up and marched over to the bed. "How can you possibly say that? Brother, I've watched you work yourself past the limit of what I thought a human could endure. I've seen the look in your eyes, a fire like the kind I sometimes saw in dad, but never had it been as bright. Your killing yourself for our country.  
  
Edgar, when that letter first arrived and you told me what it was, my first thought was how I could help. In my arrogance, I thought I could help you, I was of royal blood too after all. But I could do nothing. All my training and disciplines and I could do nothing, nothing but watch you. Edgar, against you I am nothing. I may be a prince, but you are a true king. Don't you ever doubt that again."  
  
Edgar smiled and looked up at Sabin. He stopped smiling and suddenly looked puzzled. "Sabin, your crying…"  
  
Sabin wiped away the tears with his eyes. He tried to say something, but he could not summon the strength. Finally, he was able to speak, and it was soft and clear.  
  
"Edgar, I've watched you be the king you are, in Figaro's darkest hour. I've watched what it has been doing to you, and I feel so helpless. All I can do is watch and it's tearing me apart. You're my big brother and I can't stand watching this happen to you. This is destroying you Edgar and you let it cause you love our kingdom. But I love you Edgar and I don't want to lose you. But I can't do anything!"  
  
Sabin's eyesight was hampered by the tears, but he felt his brother gently grab hold of his hand.  
  
"Sabin," he said, shaking his head, "I don't think I could have gotten this far without you. I needed you and you were there. If I seemed so strong, I think it was because you gave me that strength. Okay?"  
  
"Okay." Sabin felt Edgar's hand slide off his own. He'd finally fallen asleep. Sabin left him and headed for the bridge-door. He looked back just before opening it.  
  
"Sweet dreams, brother."  
  
He opened the door, only to find the chancellor waiting for him on the other side. He seemed quite surprised that the door would open all by itself, before he could lay a hand on it. Then he looked up.  
  
"Ah-ah Master Sabin! Quickly, please move! I must notify the king!"  
  
Sabin grabbed the chancellor by the shoulder before he could get to the door. "Whoa! What must you notify the king of?"  
  
"A representative has arrived from South Figaro wishing an audience with the king. I must inquire from him immediately whether he wants to take her prisoner."  
  
"He most certainly does not. Wait. Did you say 'her'?"  
  
"Yes!" the chancellor said impatiently, "A young woman, being escorted by a monster of a man. Her bodyguard, I would imagine. Now I must speak with the king."  
  
Sabin ignored him for a moment. "A woman eh? Not very subtle."  
  
The chancellor tried to take this opportunity to slip by Sabin, but was halted again by Sabin's grip, "The king is asleep. He's not to be disturbed for two hours at the very least."  
  
"But—"  
  
"Chancellor. He hasn't had any sleep for a week. My god man, a week. Now I'll let you go if you want. I couldn't stop you unless by force, and I don't want to do that. You've seen what he looks like, are you really willing to wake him up for this?"  
  
The chancellor looked down, ashamed. He asked quietly, "Then who will speak with the representative?"  
  
"I will speak with her. While my brother recuperates, I will perform the royal duties."  
  
The chancellor almost squeaked at him, "But..but! You…you…"  
  
"I," answered Sabin in a commanding tone, "am of royal blood. I have this right and I will claim it while my brother regains his strength." He took a deep breath and spoke normal again. "Beautiful night out tonight, chancellor don't you think?"  
  
Before waiting for a reply, he was across the bridge and opening the door on the other side. The chancellor looked up for a moment. He'd completely forgotten that it was evening and the stars were out. It was rather pretty. A cool wind picked up, making him shiver and come to his senses. With a jump, he ran after Sabin. 


	6. Chapter 3a: Out of manyone

The mind of a mob mentality and that of the individual is vastly different, more so than most would be willing to believe. Pride would no doubt have a lot to do with such denial. But having participated in mosh pit of a rock concert not two months ago, the event and my behavior therein, are still very fresh in my mind. It's actually very simple really.  
  
A mob mentality is an honest mentality. You feel security in such an environment, a blanket of anonymity. You are can no longer be held responsible for your actions because there are too many people for anyone to know who did what. It allows for an incredible amount of behavioral freedom (even if the physical freedom is next to nil). Ironic considering the incredible amount of peer pressure such an environment exudes, leaving people very vulnerable to suggestion. There are things people are willing to do in a group, that they just wouldn't do alone. Such events that would create this environment give keen insight into the more primitive animal instincts that are an undercurrent of a society.  
  
The individual, on the other hand, is a completely different beast. To be an individual is to be, on a certain level, alone. Undefended, no longer able to hide among the herd, an individual must keep their actions in check, their thoughts to themselves and their behavior under control. The honesty is gone, because the possible retaliation would now be centered wholly onto the individual. People are kept in check by their fear of there own brethren. So artificial behaviors are introduced to avoid possibilities of embarrassment or anger. The base idea behind of these rules of conduct is consideration of someone besides yourself. Again, this is far more difficult than most people are willing to admit, as they now have to make a personal battle with their own basic instincts that tend to favor more 'selfish' behavior. It gets far more complicated, enough to fill an encyclopedia, and such intricacies give way to anomalies, loopholes if you will, that if one were aware of they could easily exploit for their own ends. They are commonly referred to as politicians.  
  
But those that manipulate the social order must do so at a great expense. Usually they are so ingrained in the intricacies of the system, they begin to believe that such social protocol is the only way in which a person lives their life. They become unaware of the random, everything is predictable to them, you just have to see it. This attitude can reach almost dogma like status, usually leading to the destruction of the ordered fantasy world that person has created around themselves.  
  
The most common catalyst to this outcome is of course some powerful emotion. Usually, love. 


	7. Chapter 4: The Ambassador

Sabin had no trouble with the Chancellor. He could not enter the royal chambers during a meeting with foreign delegates unless invited. But as soon as he passed through the doors, Sabin was almost immediately overcome by a sense of fear.  
  
Inside was a young woman and a monster of a man. At least six foot seven in height (from a distance, with poor eyesight) he was clothed in mithril armor laughingly hidden behind 'loose' clothing that stuck to his immense girth like a magnet. Not so well hidden behind his robes was a very large sword.  
  
The man did not concern Sabin however, his eyes were transfixed on the woman. If she could be described in a word, it would be sharp. Physically she was a smooth as silk, curves in all the right places as the guards said to each other as she would passed by them entering the castle (long after she would pass by them). But that didn't matter. One look at her, the way she moved, the look on her face, the steel in her cold gray eyes. She was hard, precise, unwavering, determined and strong.  
  
And when she turned to find him standing at the doorway, piercing through him with those eyes, it scared the hell out of Sabin. He prayed to god she wasn't the ambassador, though he knew better.  
  
"Who are you?" she asked in a calm polite tone, but Sabin noticed a hint of something very bitter and angry behind it. It felt like a paper cut. "You are not the king."  
  
Sabin walked to the smaller throne and seated himself before the two guests. Being on a higher perch did not make him fell any more secure, nevertheless. "No, I am not. I come here on the king's behalf, he's is unavailable, but I hope I can help you in anyway possible."  
  
"Does the king think so little of his people's grievances?"  
  
"The king was not told of your impending visit. Surely you do not expect him to answer to every knock at the door in the middle of the night?"  
  
"You think this is a knock at the door?" Lucile looked hard at Sabin. "This, this, is exactly the arrogance that has brought us to this strenuous situation! How dare you! You have obviously lived so high on the hog that you forget that you're in the middle of the desert. All the food, water, and comfort you experience comes at South Figaro's expense. Your way of life is in our hands."  
  
She smiled at Sabin, a dark smile. She looked like she had just conquered him somehow. Sabin suddenly felt awkward and out of place. He felt like an iron-pumping idiot, the kind of insecure Cro-Magnon male stereotype that he is so often mistaken for. He should've known better than to tangle with this woman, this politician. What did he know of politics? She was a professional and obviously knew what she was doing. By her smile, she also knew the Sabin obviously did not.  
  
Sabin looked down to the ground with his hands on the back of his neck. He could almost imagine the look on her face. The look of a victor. He smiled at the thought. Well, he thought you don't know what you're doing. So why do what you know?  
  
He jumped off the chair and landed directly in front of Lucile so quickly that she hadn't even changed her expression to surprise yet. Her bodyguard also was taken by surprise, but not for long. With a rush he reached out to grab Sabin. He grabbed nothing and found himself on his back with all the air knocked out of him. If Sabin had moved, there was no sign of it. His eyes never left the young woman.  
  
"I'll be honest with you m'lady. I am of royal blood, but I am not royalty. I came here to visit my brother, your king, and have stayed to help him in any way I can. But as you have no doubt guessed, this entire affair and it's policies are completely alien to me. I can't help, not this way."  
  
Sabin turned and walked past Lucile. She turned and watched him, feeling as if she'd never met him before. It didn't make sense. The way he'd talked to her was laughable, a joke of a discussion. Surely this could not be a representative for the king? He belonged in a gym! Is this how the people of the castle thought? She was this close to simply turning around and leaving, but then she saw him right in front of her, an inch away, right in her face. And she saw his eyes. Deep blue eyes, there was something strange, unfamiliar in them. They way he spoke those words too, it had such understated conviction. So quiet, yet so strong, he made her believe in what he said, without question. That fact would later poke at her pride. Right now she was captivated by this new personality, it was unlike anything she'd ever seen before.  
  
Sabin walked to the door and opened it, then turned to Lucile with that same earnest look. "I want to show you something."  
  
They were led around different halls and passage ways, but the general direction was west. Eventually they were lead outside and onto a bridge. The wind caught the two visitors off guard so that even the large man visibly shivered and chattered his teeth. Before opening the door on the other side, Sabin turned to them. Lucile smiled as she heard her companion grumble, So that's his game. Indirect torture, slow, subtle, something to weaken me, break me down. He's showing he can be unpredictable, clever, jack of all trades eh? She thought these things to herself, but she didn't truly believe them as she stared at his face and waited for him to speak.  
  
He said, "I don't know how to explain to you the reasons for my actions. So I'll have to show you. I would ask that you please be as quiet as possible. My brother hasn't gotten a lot of rest this past week and I don't want to wake him up for anything."  
  
Then he turned and opened the door. They entered in and the door closed behind them with a clear thud. The sudden silence was deafening. Inside the whole room was dimly lit by wall torches, there wasn't an oil lamp to be seen. A soft warm glow was everywhere, except across the room. Lucile could just make out…what? Maybe another room?  
  
Sabin looked up at the man who was scowling back at him. "I hope you wouldn't mind if you stayed right here. In this case, less is more." He thought he heard him growl  
  
Sabin expected protest and worried that it might wake up Edgar, but luckily Lucile interjected. With a hand signal, her bodyguard stayed at the door, while they continued to the bedroom.  
  
Lucile felt that the room was doubling in length as they walked to the other end. Or maybe not, it just seemed like she had so much time to think. First their was a strong sense of anticipation, almost nervousness. She knew it was because of the lighting in the room, the general atmosphere. This entire scenario was more than likely setup long before her arrival, but she had to give 'em props. It would probably scare someone else, but not her, she wasn't scared at all. Not at all. She suddenly felt annoyed, yes annoyed. She had to—no, she just did. After all, how dare they pull this melodramatic bullshit on her. It was just one dump on her integrity after another. She was half expecting the person in the bed to die on her, but not before suddenly grabbing her and whispering those last desperate words "Don't break up my countrieee…..", or some such tacky thing. She couldn't wait for this to be over.  
  
She sighed, and felt Sabin's hand gently grab her and turn her to him. He put a finger to his lips, then let go and walked as quietly as possible to an oil lamp on the wall. They had enter the room and it was almost completely dark, and Lucile couldn't make out anything that wasn't a foot in front of her. Suddenly she became aware of a soft breathing. As Sabin increased the light, a bed became visible, as well as a man sleeping in it. She walked up to the bed as quietly as she could and looked down at the man.  
  
As she stared down at this person, an intense feeling came over her unlike anything she had ever felt before. This was no wizened figure that slept before her, but a young man. Yet he looked tired, almost old. But there was no physical signs of exhaustion, he just looked…so tired. She couldn't explain it, but she could feel it. She was forced to realize that this was all true, it was all real. None of this was sentimental or contrived. Nothing had been planned to manipulate her. It suddenly occurred to her that they may not have even been aware of her visit, she'd just assumed that spies would bring news of her. That's how it works, that's how it'd always—  
  
As Lucile stared down at him, Edgar opened his eyes and looked at her. They both held their breath and for a small moment…silence. Edgar closed his eyes and the moment was never seen or heard from again. Lucile looked up to see Sabin standing next to the lamp, staring right back at her. Half his face was in dark shadows.  
  
"You're crying." He said.  
  
Lucile touched her cheek, and then glared at Sabin. He was right.  
  
  
  
What happens when a child wishes to ignore what someone is telling them? Well many things, truthfully. But what is a common response? They cover their ears while singing/humming and shaking their heads. It's so…childish, isn't it? Not really. People are not unfamiliar with the idea of an adult doing the same thing. But it is considered a melodramatic exaggeration of extreme psychological trauma. Such scenes are meant to be symbolic of human kind's strenuous hold on their beliefs and concepts of truth.  
  
They're more accurate that most people realize, or are willing to accept.  
  
The complexity and behavior of human psyche is continuously underestimated and/or misinterpreted. War is a perfect example, if not an end result. Those fighting will often harbor intense feelings of hatred for their enemy for no better reason than they are supposed to. Be aware that this is not a subconscious thought process, soldiers are fully aware of their lack of reasons for such rage and embrace it nonetheless. Indeed in many situations, people simply ignore the contradictions of their actions in life. This would seem to suggest a lack of true belief, but indeed if such contradictions were ever brought to bear upon the subject, a desperate psychological response would be likely, possibly leading to violence, or the aforementioned child-like response. Religion, for example, is often berated for common contradictions and factual inaccuracies (which would go against the common practice of a religion to claim it's truths to be the only truths). Yet often such accusations are answered by the claims that all would be explained by faith. This is a far cry from the past, where such questions would bring about retributions the likes this world would do well never to see again. And once again, those in the present would be taken aback by the descriptions of such actions, knowing full well they occurred. Underestimating the lengths to which people will protect the imaginary world around them is in itself, evidence of that fact. 


	8. Chapter 4a: When Our Beliefs are Shaken

What happens when a child wishes to ignore what someone is telling them? Well many things, truthfully. But what is a common response? They cover their ears while singing/humming and shaking their heads. It's so…childish, isn't it? Not really. People are not unfamiliar with the idea of an adult doing the same thing. But it is considered a melodramatic exaggeration of extreme psychological trauma. Such scenes are meant to be symbolic of human kind's strenuous hold on their beliefs and concepts of truth.  
  
They're more accurate that most people realize, or are willing to accept.  
  
The complexity and behavior of human psyche is continuously underestimated and/or misinterpreted. War is a perfect example, if not an end result. Those fighting will often harbor intense feelings of hatred for their enemy for no better reason than they are supposed to. Be aware that this is not a subconscious thought process, soldiers are fully aware of their lack of reasons for such rage and embrace it nonetheless. Indeed in many situations, people simply ignore the contradictions of their actions in life. This would seem to suggest a lack of true belief, but indeed if such contradictions were ever brought to bear upon the subject, a desperate psychological response would be likely, possibly leading to violence, or the aforementioned child-like response. Religion, for example, is often berated for common contradictions and factual inaccuracies (which would go against the common practice of a religion to claim it's truths to be the only truths). Yet often such accusations are answered by the claims that all would be explained by faith. This is a far cry from the past, where such questions would bring about retributions the likes this world would do well never to see again. And once again, those in the present would be taken aback by the descriptions of such actions, knowing full well they occurred. Underestimating the lengths to which people will protect the imaginary world around them is in itself, evidence of that fact. 


	9. Chapter 5: Confronting the Fire Goddess

What was it? What did it mean? He'd never had a vision before.  
  
Edgar woke up in an odd fashion. First his eyes shot open and then his body followed. He sat upright so quickly, it literally popped his neck.  
  
"Ow!" Edgar winced and rubbed the back of his neck.  
  
"Wow. Haven't seen someone do that before."  
  
Edgar turned to see his brother sitting under a lamp, staring right at him. He was smiling.  
  
"What's wrong?" It was a reflex question, asked without thinking, As soon as Edgar looked upon Sabin, he knew something was wrong. They could never hide anything from each other. Such was their relationship as twins. One's troubled heart was the other's troubled heart. And they always responded to the other, almost by instinct.  
  
Sabin laughed, "What's wrong? Whatta question! Where to begin…"  
  
Edgar stopped rubbing his neck and moved to his forehead. Sabin was dodging the question, something was troubling him personally, but if he did not wish to discuss it, Edgar wasn't going to press him. "How long have I been asleep…asleep!" Edgar's eyes widened and turned quickly to his brother with an intense look. "How long? And how could you? I don't have time for rest Sabin."  
  
"Well, to answer your first question, three…maybe four hours." His brother replied calmly, "Apparently more than enough to give you your strength back. As for your second…if I recall, you were just as willing to lie down as I was to get you to bed."  
  
"Sabin, you know you shouldn't have done that."  
  
"Nonsense."  
  
Edgar turned and sat on the side of the bed. He rubbed his face clean of fatigue, but held them there for a moment. Sabin watched and waited patiently.  
  
"I had a vision while sleeping. I don't know what it means, but I know it's important."  
  
Sabin cocked an eyebrow, "Really, and why is that?"  
  
"Because I can remember it so clearly in my mind. In fact, I don't think I will ever forget it." For awhile, Edgar just sat there, wondering in his own thoughts. Sabin waited patiently and eventually heard:  
  
"I wake up in darkness, but I hear a voice. A beautiful voice, so beautiful and strong, as it sings something I do not understand. The voice seems to come from everywhere at once. Then I hear it clearly above me, but when I look up, a great light blinds me. I look away and I'm out in the castle courtyard…but it's all in ruins and vines and trees grow everywhere. The desert is gone, in place of a forest. I walk to the gates and when I pass through, I'm in South Figaro. It has become a large prosperous town and the people are happy. When I turn around, I'm in front of Vector, yet I'm in the Figaran Desert and the sky is filled with strange dark clouds. The banner of the House Figaro is draped over the iron walls. But the colors are changed to red and black…like the Empire. The guards ride Magitek armor, but they're different. They hiss and spew forth black smoke, like trains. Even sound like trains. I look behind me, knowing what I'm gonna see. South Figaro is huge, infinite, with buildings that reach up higher than the castle…our castle. The seaport engulfs the entire harbor. There are buildings with round towers on them. They spew forth the black clouds that fill the sky. The streets are crowded with people. But their faces…are empty. Not happy, not sad, not angry…nothing. There's nothing there, no life at all, yet they live. I fall to my knees and weep. Then I hear the voice again directly above me. I look up and see an angel with no wings, but her hair is made of fire. I guess that would make her a goddess now that I think about it. She stands over me and a tear falls from her cheek and lands on my hand. It burns me, but it's a cool burn, if that makes any sense. Doesn't matter, that's the only way I can describe it. The burning spreads through my entire body and I feel a great power surge through me. Suddenly I'm surrounded by light and the power becomes too much." Edgar stopped, staring at his own hands. He never once looked at Sabin. He was afraid to.  
  
After waiting for a reply and not getting one, he looked up. Sabin hadn't moved an inch, but his smile was gone.  
  
"We have a guest." He said at last, "I think you should meet her. She comes on behalf of your people and would like very much to have a talk with you, my king."  
  
"Her?" he asked, rather dumbly, but Sabin's statement caught him unprepared. His tone of voice was also strange. Light and yet strong, it almost sounded flippant except for the weight he put behind it.  
  
"Yes, 'her'." He said in that same tone of voice. "'Her' name is Lucile, the ambassador from South Figaro. And she's waiting for you in the guest quarters."  
  
"Sabin…"  
  
"I think you'll understand when you talk to her. Just trust me ok?"  
  
Edgar sat up and looked at himself. "You let me sleep in my clothes?"  
  
"Just shut up and go." Sabin smiled.  
  
Edgar obeyed and headed out the side door and towards the main castle. It was cold outside, very cold. He reached for his cape to cover up and realized he wasn't wearing it. He kept walking, although rules of conduct said he should wear his full royal gown for such a meeting, but his impatience and curiosity won over etiquette easily. In fact, he began to quicken his pace till he was almost running. He was filled with energy all of a sudden and felt oddly anxious. There was something in the way his brother had talked that had just…gotten to him somehow. The feeling of anticipation just fueled this new found energy as it engulfed him. It made him smile, then laugh out loud. He felt he could somersault to the guest room.  
  
As he made his way through the castle, the guards would look on him with wonder. Some would call to him, but running along as he was, he would only have time for a short reply or wave.  
  
"Eddie, is that you?"  
  
"Damn straight it's me!"  
  
"My lord, are you all right?"  
  
"Haven't felt this good in…" and then he'd be gone.  
  
And so he reached the guest room on the other side of the castle fairly quickly, specially for someone who'd only had four hours of sleep in the past week. Before he knew it, he was in front of the door. Quickly he grabbed the doorknob, but then drew his hand away as if he'd been burned. Hmph! Some king, barging in like a drunken fool. He was a ladies man! Straightening himself up and dusting himself off and wishing there was mirror around so he could check his teeth, Edgar calmly gripped the door knob again, and opened the door. Strutting into the room already prepared for his opening line, his vision fell on the young woman sitting beside a small table.  
  
The cocky posture and expression…expectations…assumptions…assertions…preparation…gone, they melted off him like butter. He might as well have been a virgin schoolboy in the girl's locker room the way he just stood there staring. And that's just how he felt, like a child. Trapped, having no idea what to do or say, and he suddenly became very aware of how awkward he felt. The lady in front of him looked at him with an odd expression of curiosity.  
  
"Are you blushing?" Edgar couldn't have thought up a worse thing for her to say. He felt like he was burning up inside.  
  
I called her an angel…no a goddess!  
  
The burning tripled and he was sure his face was redder than her hair. She just continued to look at him with an expression that one would probably see on a person watching a chocobo line dance. Who knows how long this lasted, but it ended when Edgar, desperate to find something to say or at least do, caught sight of the immense figure standing behind her in the shadows. If he were there to assassinate him, Edgar would still have felt grateful he was there.  
  
"Who is that?" he asked, with a high, nervous squeak that he was none too proud of.  
  
The woman turned, but kept her eyes on the king for as long as she could. "That," she replied, "Is my bodyguard. He hails from the East. You would do well not to upset him."  
  
Edgar took the time to sit down in the chair across from her. It actually took a great deal of courage. He felt he would not have been able to move at all had she been looking at him. She turned back to him and Edgar was once again unhinged. Desperation growing, Edgar was not feeling at all like a king.  
  
But you are a king, now act like one!  
  
If it had been a voice that's what it would've said, but it was more of a feeling. Perhaps a presence. Whatever it was, Edgar felt it as he sat there weak-kneed and rubber-legged. Edgar suddenly realized this meeting was important, probably the most important one in his life, and all the awkwardness fell away. He had to do this and do it right, for his people.  
  
The woman noticed the change immediately. "My name is Lucile." She extended a hand. Edgar reached out to kiss it when she jerked it back.  
  
"It is a common custom to kiss the hand of a fair lady." Edgar stated without a hint of pompousness, "I meant no disrespect."  
  
"A handshake will suffice."  
  
"As you wish." Edgar extended his hand, and they shook.  
  
Lucile's let go and her hand went immediately to a parchment on the table. "Now, if you don't mind, I would like to list the grievances by the crown against the people."  
  
"What are the grievances?" Edgar asked plainly. It would seem silly to ask such a question considering that she was moments away from telling him, but he didn't ask it to gain information. During the negotiations between two people, response time, reactions, and even such things as simple mannerisms would begin to show a rhythm unique to each person. It's apparent in everyone and involuntary. Most people are unaware of it, let alone know their own pattern. And when in a conversation/argument/negotiation, disrupting that rhythm gives the opponent a large advantage. However when dealing with a professional (who is most likely acutely aware of his/her rhythm), it's a lot like a game of cards. They can break their rhythm, hide it (though doing so causes a great distraction and so is rarely done), or even create a false rhythm, a 'bluff' if you will. Edgar knew Lucile was a professional, but he had to play aggressively and openly attack her rhythm, hoping she would mistake him for a rookie negotiator, a pompous prince of a king who suddenly decided he could do this on his own without the help of advisors. If he could make her treat him lightly, he might get the upper hand. Plans within plans…  
  
So the dance began. Most of the 'grievances' revolved around the possible addition of Kohlingen to the nation and the drafting of the young men of South Figaro into the army. But all that was just on the surface, underneath a battle was being fought. Anticipations and strategies were tried and failed, and Edgar began to admire the woman. Despite the nature of the beast, she did not try deceive him. She made no flanking maneuvers nor any attempts at faking a rhythm, yet she was fully aware of his attempts and subtle sabotages. She knew all the tricks but did not use them. She wore her convictions on her sleeve. Edgar liked the honesty of that very much, and he suddenly felt guilty that he wasn't being as straightforward.  
  
But you must be this way, for your people. He thought, It's a necessary evil.  
  
But now he wasn't sure. She came a representative of the people of South Figaro, even though as king, Edgar was the only true 'representative' of the kingdom. Yet she was the one who was treating these negotiations with respect, by treating it honestly. How could he try conversational flanking and maneuvers while she stood steadfast? How could he not, the king of Figaro, represent his people as the honest folks they are? Why could he not?  
  
"Why does South Figaro wish it's independence?" Edgar asked.  
  
"What?" Lucile was about to respond to a question from Edgar regarding the fourteenth article, paragraph two, sub-article eight and the suddenness and simple-mindedness of the question made her think for a moment that she imagined it. The look he gave her was made her suddenly very uncomfortable. It was so…raw, almost primitive. There was nothing hidden behind it.  
  
"Why does South Figaro wish it's independence?" Edgar repeated.  
  
Lucile widened her eyes, "Have you not listened to anything I have said?"  
  
"Why does South Figaro wish it's independence?" Edgar asked again.  
  
"I've already shown you—"  
  
"What you've shown me," Edgar interrupted, "is complaints about taxes and upkeep of the castle. What you've shown me is nothing that justifies a rebellion. Now please, tell me why does South Figaro wish it's independence."  
  
"If what I've presented today cannot satisfy you, then I believe we have no more business together."  
  
Edgar slammed his fist on the table, something that brought the first movements out of the tall tower of a man standing against the wall. "Damn what you've presented! It doesn't satisfy you either! South Figaro's declaration is a declaration of treason and war! This is something that can lead to the deaths of countless people. You know this, yet you proceed. Now I want to know why."  
  
"I-I don't know how—" Lucile stammered. She was scared, actually scared, but she didn't know why. Suddenly he was acknowledging her as a representative, and screaming at her for a reason for this rebellion, and she was feeling something inside surge with a desire to be free. But she couldn't break down, not now, not ever.  
  
"Yes you do," Edgar persisted, "tell me off."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You've been wanting to do it ever since I entered the room. All this," he pointed at the parchment, "means nothing to you. You know why you rebel and you're desperate to scream it at me, me, the reason for all this. But you can't can you? No, cause it's not in that list of grievances, it's not even hidden in the fine print. It's not an article, paragraph, or even sub- article. But it's the real reason. It's the motivation. It's the reason for risking so much. Now tell me!"  
  
"Because we don't need you anymore!" she screamed and suddenly stood up, knocking over her chair, "The monarchy is dead and it's corpse is holding us back! This castle is our creation, not yours. It was built to glue the lands together, but that glue has long since sealed and this castle is nothing but an empty shell. We could do so much by ourselves, but this stupid stone hut in the middle of a desert burdens us. It takes away our money, our water, our lives, our pride! And we are tired of it!"  
  
Edgar stayed in his chair gaping at the vision in front of him. He definitely got more than he bargained for. Lucile towered over him with a face full of anger and frustration. He'd never seen a face so alive and full of energy before. Her hair seemed to flow about her like fire. He was staring at his goddess, but she was an angry goddess, and like all people in the presence of a deity, Edgar was as much terrified as he was in awe. After a long enough time passed without a response, she walked towards the door with her bodyguard following closely behind her.  
  
"Wait. Please wait." Edgar pleaded, but he said it soft enough for it to be mistaken for a simple request.  
  
Lucile stopped and turned around. She didn't know why. She had every reason and right to just slam that door in his face, but she didn't. She turned around. Edgar stood up and bowed to her. When he came up and looked at her, she could tell he was struggling to say something. She felt sure she didn't want to hear it, this looked too much like it was going to be a confession of some sort.  
  
"I-I want talk to you about something personal." Edgar looked at her large companion.  
  
Her stomach turned over, but she also turned to her companion and nodded. He frowned at her, then glared at Edgar, and then went out the door to glare at anyone who would pass by. But as he closed the door behind him, he had just enough time to hear the king say, "I had a vision while sleeping." 


	10. Chapter 5a: A Lil bit of Figaro History

The family Figaro up until Edgar II had ruled the kingdom for well over a hundred years. The last three generations however, were considered to be a separate dynasty from the rest of their lineage. It would begin with Roland III, the grandfather of Edgar and Sabin. He would be the first to institute two new and very different philosophies into the country.  
  
As a boy Roland was one of the few children of Figaro who was literate, and of those few, was one of few who would actually take the time to read, and of those few, one of the few who actually enjoyed reading. Not just enjoyed, his appetite for literature could only be described as ravenous. By the age of eight, he'd exhausted the library of the castle, although this was not as difficult as it sounds, as the 'library' was rather small (a glorified closet really). Still the books were old and the quickness with which he read through them showed intelligence beyond his years. Indeed often he would frustrate his teachers, who taught only politics and the responsibilities of a king, with his incessant questions and need for answers they could not give him. He in turn was equally frustrated with their lack of answers. So it was not so much his interest in reading so much as his constant thirst for knowledge. Even as a child, he preferred non-fiction however he often voiced his frustration at the lack of legends and fantasy books and was the youngest person in the world to actually write a published collection of short stories and a novel. As soon as he had drained the castle of all it's knowledge, he began to demand trips to the local towns in search of more, then to the outer reaches of the kingdom. Often he would be in South Figaro, in hopes that the few foreigners who traded with Figaro would bring books from overseas that he could read. This is how he came across his first 'science fiction' book.  
  
Now at that time, what we consider 'science' was then considered magic in a slightly altered form, a crude imitation of the power that brought about destruction and ruin in the War of the Magi. So this new 'magic' was as hated and feared as the old. Scientists and inventors were considered the same as Mage Warriors and treated accordingly and even those that were not physically threatened, would find their ideas falling on deaf ears or their creations burned. Even as time passed and science became more accepted, in- fighting began as new theories were argued over and credibility's questioned. And so subversive techniques were thought up to bypass prejudices and ridicule, such as the creation of the 'science fiction' genre in literature. They were, more often than not, poorly disguised notes of new, experimental scientific theories hidden behind simple stories. Since they were considered fiction, few people would be up in arms about the theories hidden between the lines.  
  
And they hooked Roland. Something about these stories struck a nerve and sparked his imagination. He began to be more involved with the books of these sorts. He could tell which ones were based on logic (or felt real as he put it) and which were nothing but fantastic science. Reading the stories, he would begin to criticize the scientific plot holes and so would through these fictions began to think up his own (legitimate) scientific theories. He was especially keen in physics and mechanics. From there it was not long before he was creating his own inventions from fans for the guards to self-propelled toys. To put it simply, Roland as a young man was too busy being an inventor to realize he was going to be king.  
  
As a king, Roland was a great inventor. However, what would seem like a disaster would turn out to be a blessing. Roland was an idiot genius, a man with an IQ of 200 but the common sense of a brick, like all good inventors. His reasoning was that he became a great inventor because he could read, and that if his people were taught to read, they could also create their own inventions. He enacted laws that formed the first national education program, which quickly developed into a full-blown government funded educational system through which all children 5-12 were taught rudimentary math, grammar, and literacy. Also as a king, he had the power to spread his inventions far and wide, though he went through a great deal to make sure no one was aware they were his creations. He wanted to be sure his inventions could be viewed by their own merits, and by their own merits they became very popular. Year after year, he would put forth new creations that would revolutionize one or more aspects of the nations economy. Eventually he even began to have competition from new businesses started by inventors brought out of their shells. Indeed, Figaro's people through their revolutionary school system, embraced the new 'magic' and before long became the most powerful and developed country in the world. The world as a whole was largely unaware of Figaro's progress however, because Figaro was still a self-contained nation. Aside from the education system (which at first was not embraced easily since it took away the farmers' field hands for most of the day), the countries politics remained largely unchanged.  
  
That is until the next king of Figaro was crowned. 


	11. Chapter 6: A Fool in Love

When Edgar finally returned to his room, he found his brother still sitting in the same chair. He wondered at how long he'd been sitting there. In fact Sabin had been sitting in that chair without moving ever since the woman ambassador had left the room. That was hours ago. He had much to think about, it'd been a long and eventful day.  
  
As she left the room with a very unpleasant look on her face, Sabin sat down and turned his attention to his brother. That is to say he stared at him. Staring at his brother served as a kind of focal point to help him go through the events of the day.  
  
The woman: She scared him, scared him bad. It wasn't just her personality either, in fact it wasn't her personality at all. Sabin was a monk, or as Duncan used to say, trained in the ways of the hermit, and a large part of that training was sensing someone's soul or aura. It was about the only thing Duncan would ever take seriously. Sabin often used it to scan a person in a fight and just in general to get a better understanding of anyone he was with. He thought this ability would give him an advantage against the ambassador and so he volunteered himself as Edgar's representative. But she was…terrifying dammit, just terrifying. She was frozen fire, like Celes really, except it was her aura, and so it was real. It was no act, it was no shield to keep others away or something inside. She was who you saw, she was pure. That kind of focus was rare among people, and it could be very dangerous. So pure, it scared him, scared him bad.  
  
Edgar: He bore his feelings to his brother, about how proud and frustrated he was, yet he did not tell him everything. He did not tell him the real reason why he'd felt such anguish. Sabin was Edgar's brother, his twin. All through their childhood they had lived, learned, and played together. But then Sabin left. He'd always meant to go back and visit every once and a while, but with his training and…he… Oh who was he kidding, he forgot about Edgar. That's what was killing him, he'd forgotten about his brother, the only person he'd ever really known. And now, as he witnessed his brother the king, he was forced to accept that he did not know his brother anymore. That's a difficult thing to deal with.  
  
And Edgar's dream, that was something unexpected. It made prominent mention of the woman. A goddess was it? In any case, Sabin was no psychologist. The whole thing sounded dramatic sure, but did it mean anything? He just didn't know.  
  
So much to think about, and as it turned out, so little time. Before he knew it, he felt Edgar's hand on his shoulder, waking him from his thoughts. He looked up at him.  
  
Sabin may not have known his brother anymore, he may as well have been a passerby on the street, but he did know people. Sabin, despite his fairly cheerful exterior, was at heart a cynic, and it took a long time before he was willing to accept that love actually existed, that it wasn't just a myth people were so desperate to believe in, but it was rare. Real love, not a 'relationship', but the genuine jump-off-a-cliff-for-you-without-any- hesitation kinda stuff, that was so rare, you definitely knew it if you saw it. And when Sabin turned to look at his brother, when he saw his face, he felt his stomach twist, turn, and perform all other manner of acrobatics while his mind was setting up a drum set for the biggest pounding headache the world had yet to see. He looked at his brother and said only one thing.  
  
"Oh dear god, you're in love." He sounded rather tired.  
  
"Am I?" Edgar said wistfully, "I…I think… You know what? I think you're right. I mean…I just… Wow! You hit it right on the head! I'm actually in love! I didn't think you could be in love, ya know. I mean, I pretend but… Heh…wow…"  
  
"Edgar," Sabin asked slowly, "please tell me it's not the woman. I mean I know it is, but lie to me. Please, just lie to me. I don't care, make something up. You're good at that. You got distracted on the way and met up with a serving lady. You haven't even seen the woman in the past…three…hours… Come on, give me something."  
  
"Why? I'm in love! I never knew I could feel love. For a moment there, I was scared I was coming down with something, but now I feel incredible! Lucile tapped energy out of me I didn't know I had, but now I'm drained, yet I still feel great! Why in the world should I hide it?" Edgar threw his arms into the air and shouted, "I'm in love with Lucile!" He looked back at Sabin. "Is that so wrong?"  
  
"Is that…?" Sabin started to laugh that stressed-out, on-the-edge kind of laugh. "Is that…wow! Okay Edgar, let's put this in perspective. Repeat after me: I am in love with the representative of South Figaro."  
  
"I am in love with the representative of South Figaro." Edgar replied smiling cheerfully. He was now too distracted by his new found discovery to question what Sabin was doing.  
  
"Say it again."  
  
"I am in love with the representative…of…" Sabin was mouthing a word to Edgar, "ribble?…rib-eye…oh! Rebel! Ahem…rebel…steak…stand…state! State of South Figaro."  
  
"All that again."  
  
"I am in love," Edgar began with a smile, "with the representative of the rebel state…of…South…Figaroooh no!" Edgar was no longer smiling. In fact he crashed himself onto his bed with a loud wail. He then proceeded to grab a pillow behind him and hit his face with it.  
  
"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!…" he cried between hits. Suddenly he shot upright like a spring and gasped. He turned to Sabin with a look of desperation and fear. "Oh no…what if she finds out? What if she knows?! My god she could play me like puppet! The kingdom would be hers to play with!"  
  
"Calm down Edgar!" Sabin replied softly, "Just take a deep breath to collect yourself. I don't think she knows. I was with her for a very short while, but I'm pretty sure it'd be tough for her to accept that love even exists, let alone think you'd fallen for her. Hell, I'm having a hard time believing it."  
  
"What do you mean?" Edgar asked, and Sabin noticed a small hint of anger in his tone.  
  
"Well dammit man, the woman's stone cold! I aint gonna lie to you. I just don't see the attraction."  
  
Edgar looked down at his feet. "You're wrong. She's strong, and graceful, and beautiful!"  
  
"Yeah, they're all beautiful."  
  
"No Sabin! It's not that kind of beauty, it's deeper. I mean, did you see her eyes, my god. You could see so much in them. Lucile's lived her life to the fullest and you know she didn't compromise a thing."  
  
Sabin thought about it for a moment and realized Edgar was right. Her aura had been hard as stone, but damn if it wasn't one of the strongest one's he'd ever felt. He was beginning to understand her appeal, but it still didn't fit Edgar's profile. He just couldn't see her as his type. Then he realized who was he to talk.  
  
Edgar made a deep sigh, "Oh man, I really am in love. All the way…"  
  
"All the way…" Sabin sighed, "So, tell me what happened."  
  
And Edgar did. 


	12. Chapter 6a: A Lil bit of Figaro History...

When Roland had a son, it took everyone by surprise. The first thoughts of pretty much everyone was who was the mother. Rumors of scandal in the royalty and all manner of fiction spread. All untrue as it turned out Roland was married, everyone had simply forgotten, much like the rumors would've been if they'd turned out to be true.  
  
Her name was Sylvia. She was the daughter of a rich business man from Albrook. How she came to meet Roland and what brought about the marriage is unknown. How or even if they came to be in love is also a complete mystery. They were certainly on the opposite ends of the spectrum from each other. Where Roland was loud and straightforward to the point of being mistaken for simple, Sylvia very rarely spoke and was very subtle and manipulative in her actions. She always got what she wanted from someone else without ever asking them directly for it. So it's not surprising to note that while few were ever aware of her very existence, she was the true ruler of Figaro. Both were of an intelligence that could label them geniuses, but where Roland's was steeped in the ways of logic (ironically enough, considering his personality), Sylvia's was based on common sense, planning, organizing, basically all the essentials that make a great leader. It is ironic to note that by not being a king did Roland benefit Figaro the most.  
  
And so through this union was the prince Rene* Figaro born. Rene was the product of Roland in Sylvia in more ways than one. He possessed the keen intellect of both and his personality was split between the two as well. From his father he carried and intense curiosity and the need to create and build. But he was also a very quiet and clever child, attributes from his mother.  
  
The raising of the young prince was handled by nurses, hand maids, teachers and almost all the servants of the castle, but that is hardly to mean that his parents ignored him. In fact, much of Rene's personality revolved around his interaction with his mother and father during his childhood. He was often seen tinkering with his father in the basement and together they would compete against each other to see who could make a better toy. Never would his father be to busy with an invention to not play with his son, but rarely was he ever out of his lab and so young Rene would always have to come to him. Sylvia was a musician, pianist to be exact, who favored the music of jazz and blues that had spread like wild fire all through the southern continent, but was still fairly rare in most other provinces. The jumpy and energetic melodies were a stark contrast to her personality and she rarely played except for her son, who would sometimes write lyrics for her. You may have noticed that his parents were rarely together during these rather rare meetings. Indeed it was very rare for them to have the time to be with each other at the same time. Most often it was PR events when the royal family was brought together, and while Rene actively complained about how boring they were, he secretly wished there were more, just so he could be with his parents more often.  
  
Now as had been mentioned before, Sylvia ruled almost outright and most people accepted it. The fact that she gave out orders and decrees 'in the name of the king, who is a very busy man' was just a formality people accepted. So Rene was taught in the ways of a king by his mother. Still, the powers given to a Figaran ruler were still minimal and almost ineffective. It was during this time when the kingdom was littered with bad luck. Small droughts one year, a slight recession the next. The entire time of Roland's rule could be likened to an attack by mosquitoes, it's hardly serious but it just makes you madder and madder. And with each new 'screw over' the people demanded more and more help from the crown. Sylvia saw this opportunity to gain more control and seized it, and with each new problem, Sylvia was able to consolidate more power to the crown and use it. Government programs (such as they were) for welfare, infrastructures, communications, and education were re-organized and fitted with more money. As a result, taxes were increased. After the organization, government programs ran far more smoothly and efficiently and taxes were cut to below what the originally were, but the short hike had done irreversible damage. It was that oh so small straw that finally broke the camels back. It isn't clear what happened exactly, it is only known that all supplies to the castle were cut and a royal regiment was dispatched to investigate. How they came back two men less and one man wounded (supposedly from a monster attack in the desert) than when they left and with a fresh supply of water and food was never recorded. The incident was never spoken of again.  
  
Eventually, Rene grew into a man and was crowned king. Sylvia had arranged for it to be large event, the first time ever that the crowning of the king had become a formal affair. It would be the last time Sylvia would have any strong influence over the affairs of the kingdom, not even as her son's advisor. Rene had his own plans for the kingdom.  
  
The string of small bad luck for the kingdom continued, but now that the king's power had increased, dealing with them became far more efficient and the problems were solved almost as soon as they'd begun. With power set firmly in place, Rene slowly began to change Figaro. He strongly encouraged trade with other countries, something unheard of before. He used large amounts of the royal treasury to build a larger and more modern harbor. He would make constant diplomatic trips to Doma and the southern continent. The return on his investments was phenomenal. In less than a year, Figaro had become the richest nation in the world. It became popularly known as the 'poor choice' era, the joke being that now you could be poor by choice. In order to make sure everyone 'had their fair share', Rene also completely revised the tax system, not only to give more money to the poor, but to keep the rich from becoming too powerful. It was during this time that the 'middle class' emerged to be the largest economical group.  
  
Rene had not given up his penchant for inventions however. But where his father was mostly a tinkerer and rarely created anything of particular value, Rene applied complex physics to his creation and built them with the direct purpose of furthering the development of the country. He even built copies of other people inventions just to create economic competition and stimulate the market and would show off his blue prints to others so that they may also make their own variations by funding seminars at the castle. That was another thing, he openly used the power of the crown to back his inventions and so was far more effective in spreading the technology into the market. His focus also was on self-propelled items, and he was constantly experimenting with different forms of power. So far steam power (a recent Figaran invention) had become the only means to an alternate power source besides manpower, and as time passed, Rene's ideas could no longer become realities without more power. A perfect example was his idea for a walking machine.  
  
It would not be until an accident while trying to complete his father's 'castle-sinking' machine would Rene learn the value of fire and oil. After an explosion and rush of air pushed him against the wall, Rene realized that if that power could be focused well, the possibilities were endless. Unfortunately, oil was not something that Figaro had a lot of. Most of it was imported from the southern continent. So Rene began to establish stronger trade agreements with the southern continent, specifically Albrook and especially Vector, the small province in the center of the continent. They were a weak province with the largest supply of oil in the world, but oil did not have much value then, people still used wood to burn most things (except Figaro, ironically enough. Their main fuel source was coal imported from Narshe). Maranda, Albrook and Tzen would sometime have minor scuffles over who owned the province, but since it had so little value, they'd usually just leave it alone. Up until Figaro's offer to buy up all the oil it had (for almost three times what they thought it was worth) as well as offer an alliance and increase trade with them, Vector was the outhouse of the southern continent With Figaro's heavy hand, it rose to equal its southern brethren and later surpass them. And so in truth it was the province of Vector (which would eventually be known simply as The Empire) that was allied with Figaro, not the other way around as was popularly thought.  
  
* Rene was originally a brother, but his twin Roni died shortly after birth. The cause is unknown. 


	13. Chapter 7: Fire and Ice

"I feel I have only a choice between the death of my kingdom or the death of my people."  
  
Lucile lay in her bed staring at the ceiling with a blank look on her face. Her eyes sporadically shot to different spots of the ceiling, eyes fixing on different imperfections for but a short moment before finding another irregularity somewhere else. It was the closest thing to sitting still she could ever achieve. It was how she meditated.  
  
At the moment, the negotiations (if you could call it that) were occupying all her thoughts. In particular was that odd comment Edgar had made to her. It sounded almost as if he wanted her to decide for him. Well, as far as she was concerned, the choice was so obvious, it wasn't a choice at all. The people are the kingdom, that was the whole point. That's the only reason she came here.  
  
So why on earth did he ask her?  
  
It was such a silly thing to say. What was the game these two brothers were pulling? It had all the signs of a two-bit hustle. One playing the inexperienced decoy and the other's…goodness knows what. That's was another thing, this whole situation, the broken intro from the king's brother, the death-bed sequence, the outburst the king brought out of her in the negotiations, it was all so damned erratic. Each scene, the antics in the throne room, the ridiculous death-bed nonsense, and everything the king did during the talks, they all looked like melodramatic manipulations, but each one didn't lead to anything but another theatrical performance. They were running her around in circles and for the life of her she couldn't tell if it was on purpose (making them the most dangerous people she'd ever met) or if they just didn't know what they were doing (making them the most annoying). Either way, she had absolutely no idea what their intentions were, or how it would end, and heaven help her if that's how they wanted it.  
  
But there was something else, and it was bothering her a lot more than she would ever admit, or accept. There was a common thread between all these events, and it was a personal one. When Edgar woke up and looked right at her, when he yelled at her for an explanation and then said he saw her in a vision as goddess… This was getting uncomfortable. She turned on her side, hoping she could get to sleep. But she couldn't escape the uneasiness she was feeling. Each time, something happened to her, but she just couldn't pinpoint what, and it was eating at her. And it was just as much the fact that it was an unanswered question in general as much as it was an unanswered question concerning her.  
  
"What the hell happened in there?" she asked the wall she was facing. Then she turned over.  
  
"How the hell do I deal with this?" she asked the table lamp she was squinting at, then flipped onto her stomach and proceeded to hit her head on the pillow repeatedly.  
  
"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! …" She cried between hits. She flipped over onto her back and heaved a ten ton sigh. She didn't know what was going to happen next, or how this whole fiasco would end, but she couldn't wait to get back home. Home, the thought of it brought on a string of bad stuff. Memories, homesickness, and the realization that despite it her annoyance at the behavior of the natives, she was still a stranger in the strangest of lands.  
  
Lucile stood up and sat on the edge of the bed. Oh how she needed to think of something to get her mind off the generally puzzling questions. This place was a mad house, and it was pissing her off!  
  
She jumped up with a hard look on her face. That's right! It was pissing her off! Whether amateurs or masters, these two knuckle heads were playing with her and that wasn't something she was gonna tolerate. It was no longer about South Figaro. They were insulting her with each scenario and she was gonna put a stop to it now. Lucile marched to the door and threw it open and it stopped short of the wall with a loud thud! Followed by a groan.  
  
"My apologies Khili, but I'm in a hurry." She said as she walked past the her bodyguard, who was rubbing his forehead. Khili could take care of himself after all.  
  
Lucile didn't know where she was going, but she didn't really need to. One of the unique aspects of her personality was that she never felt apprehensive about talking to complete strangers, not even as a child. And even as a child, she could be very intimidating, and not just in the 'risk of a temper-tantrum' kind of way (although as a child she wasn't above such a tactic). But now, she was practically terrifying. So when she wanted to know how to get to the kings quarters, she simply planted herself in front of the first guard she saw and asked. The look on her face was enough to tell them that she wasn't gonna stand for anything but a straight answer, which he provided straight away. Almost before he was finished, she was off, which was fortunate since he was planning on telling her that the king's quarters were off limits. If he'd gotten the information across, it could've proved a poor decision.  
  
He told her only how to reach him by going outside since he was unaware of the entrance by the bridge, but that didn't matter. While talking to the guard, Lucile remembered when Sabin led her to the king's bedroom. She ignored the guard and tried to remember the specifics. As soon as she was sure of the way, she was off like a bullet. It was pure luck that she happened to choose the exact time of the changing of the guards to decide to visit the king, so that she did not meet a soul on the way. This was quite fortunate since the guards, as leisurely as they may have looked, would've done everything they could to stop her and in the mood she was right then, there would have been no good outcome from such a confrontation. The only person about during this short (approximately five minutes) amount of time would be the chancellor, but again as luck would have it, he was forced to take a bathroom break at that very moment. None of this mattered to Lucile, whose anger was increasing with each step, though she knew not why, but in her state she didn't care.  
  
They were toying with her, her! It was simply one insult after another. The representative of a people oppressed and angry, and these two idiots were toying with her. How dare they? Did they think was a game? Recalling the events in her mind, she came to the conclusion that at no time during her visit her had anyone take her seriously. Not once did anyone extend her any professional courtesy. Hell, no one had shown professionalism of any kind. It was outrageous, it was unacceptable, it was infuriating!  
  
She screamed out in frustration just she reached the door to the outside bridge. It was locked at this late hour of the night. Lucile gripped the door handle and with a jerk and metallic snap! the door was 'unlocked'. Kicking it open only to be blasted with sand, Lucile had passed the point of no return. The winds were up to one hundred miles an hour, but Lucile walked across the bridge as if it were but a soft summer breeze. She didn't, however kick the door at the other end open. Oh no, she pounded on it with the strength of a frustrated woman, and waited. It only took a few moments before the door was opened by Sabin.  
  
"Oh, uh…hi. What a pleasant sup—" he was suddenly aware of the look on her face. He gulped.  
  
"Where is your brother?" she asked with enough venom to kill a behemoth. Sabin almost thought he could see her frothing at the mouth.  
  
"In—in—uh, I mean—he's uh…insi—in…uh…" she walked past him as he continued to stutter. Shortly Sabin drew a heavy sigh. "Whew, is that time of the month?" he muttered under his breath and turned around. Lucile was standing directly in front of him, her face almost as red as her hair, and her left eye might have been twitching. Sabin wasn't really sure, he was rather distracted by that fact that he may or may not have just wet himself.  
  
"What…did…you…just…say?" Well, there was no doubt anymore.  
  
Who knows how she was able to hear his whisper with his back turned with the wind blowing like it was. Perhaps she didn't hear it at all. Maybe she sensed that Sabin had said something and her question was genuine. Didn't really matter. Sabin was still standing in front of a demon made flesh (whom he'd just made madder) with a warm feeling running down his left leg. All he could do now was prey for a quick end.  
  
Edgar watched from the table on the other side of the room as Sabin opened the door. He knew that it was Lucile, though the lights were turned down making her face hidden in shadow. He saw her walk past Sabin in a gate that seemed very stiff and rigid. Suddenly she stopped just before entering a pool of light and slowly turned to face Sabin, who was still looking out into the night. He turned around and his entire body stiffened upon noticing Lucile. His face was hidden behind hers. Lucile was talking, but with her back turned, it was muffled and unintelligible. As he watched them (or her) converse, he felt a growing unease start to come over him. When he saw Sabin's knees buckle and watched him fall to the floor in a faint, the unease turned into full blown fear. Lucile turned around and marched straight towards Edgar, and as she passed a lamp, he could see her face clearly. He was going to sit up, but now found that he couldn't move.  
  
Fortunately for him, the purest of Lucile's anger had mostly been expelled on Sabin. What was left had a greater sense of calm and control, which was not necessarily for the better. Now her anger was focused like a magnifying glass, and Edgar was an ant. He was feeling the heat and began to sweat. Edgar was scared, no doubt about it. Chances are if he had not just relieved himself prior to Lucile's arrival, he would have shared his brother's fate. But to anyone who would have witnessed this scene, he was as calm as a mountain lake. He had one hand laid on the armrest and the other laid on the table, one leg resting on the other. He stared up at the Fire Goddess with the picture of calmness etched into his stone-like face, which in truth was more akin to frozen stiff. Oh yes, he was scared, but he was the only one who knew it.  
  
This didn't matter a lick to Lucile, he could've been the iron gates to the magic world for all she cared. She stopped in front of him.  
  
"Get up." There was a lot of ice in that command. Edgar didn't obey, quite simply he couldn't. But what happened next shocked him.  
  
"What do you want?" There was a lot stone in that response. It came out of his mouth as if a reflex and suddenly Edgar felt like he was no longer in control of his own body. He was terrified, too terrified to move or speak, yet he just responded to this very scary woman, and harshly no less. It didn't make sense. It' s what he wanted to say to her, but was too forgone into fear to utter, yet that is exactly what he said. Now he was confused and felt he was about to dragged into a very nasty conversation without any solid idea of what was happening or what going to happen. It didn't help that Lucile seemed to become even angrier at the tone of voice he took with her.  
  
"What I want," she seethed, "is an explanation. I want to know why I'm being made the butt of your sick joke. I want to know if my home's cry of outrage is just some menial event you can use to pass the days quicker." Then she paused and smiled coyly, a rather unnerving sight coming from her. She bent down until her face was less than a foot away from Edgar's. "I want to know what you'll do when I go home and tell my people what has happened here."  
  
"Your people…" Edgar did not flinch. He was still scared, but now some of that fear was directed at himself. He was behaving just the way he wanted to, saying just the right things, at just the right time, in just the right tone, being afraid yet showing no fear. He was behaving like he was in a fantasy, a insecure re-imagining of a failed argument where he now controlled the cards. But like dream, he didn't feel in control. Be careful what you wish for.  
  
"Me dear, they are not your people, no more now than they are mine." He sighed. That much at least was his, came from his heart and it was bitter. "I know…" he waited. The loss of control was lifting …something he needed to say was more important than her and himself. Perhaps his guardian spirit had protected him from her wrath and now was no longer needed who knows. Edgar didn't care.  
  
"I know," he continued, "that our country is dying. I've known for almost all my life, but I hoped I would not live to see the final breath. Then the world changed and now it was only a matter of time. The declaration of independence was a long expected letter. Didn't make it any easier to receive though. But I can't be the one. I can't be the one who ends the kingdom. Don't you see? I know independence will be gained no matter what I do. That's what is tearing me apart Sabin, that's why I did not sleep for a week. I buried myself in work, piling all the responsibility I could on top of me. I was hiding, and sleep only brought nightmares."  
  
"You're just trying to mess with my head again." She'd heard enough of these 'confessions', she wasn't falling for it again. It just made her angrier, although deep in some corner of her mind she realized that she'd never heard Edgar angry before, and it was slightly unsettling to hear him talk to her this way.  
  
"If you say so." Edgar said dismissively.  
  
"How dare yo—"  
  
Edgar stood up and stared right in her face. He wasn't scared anymore, that something that was rising in him took over, and it turned out to be something rather ugly. A deep bitterness and self-loathing overwhelmed him and now it was his turn to vent.  
  
"I dare," he interrupted, shoving his face right into hers, "because this is my house and I'll dare whatever I please. I don't care anymore. You are just a guest here. You would do well to remember that."  
  
Lucile staggered back. The unsettling feeling was thrust to the forefront of her thought and once again, she was taken surprise. But now she'd begun to get used to this kind of thing and her pride was far stronger than her fear. She quickly got right back in Edgar's face.  
  
"When I get back to the city, I will tell them how I've been treated and they will call for your head."  
  
"Let them! Do you really think they would start a revolution over your stupid pride? Even if they would, are you truly so horrible as to let them? What does it matter anyway? I told you, you will have your independence one way or the other. What more do you want?"  
  
"I want to achieve freedom through peace if I can." The anger gave way a moment to Lucile's pride.  
  
"Oh really?" Edgar mocked, "I couldn't tell through all the scowling."  
  
Lucile scowled and the pride quickly cooperated with her anger.  
  
"The face of peace." Edgar smirked, then put up his hand before Lucile could respond. "Stop! Before you start, I just want you to know that this conversation is over. You can continue talking if it pleases you, I'm just not gonna listen okay?" Edgar quite literally fell back into his chair.  
  
"Are you drunk?" Lucile asked incredulously.  
  
"I wish." Edgar replied, probing his forehead.  
  
There was a lot of silence, and despite his claim of indifference, Edgar was preparing for Lucile's no doubt heated response. It would turn out to be futile.  
  
"This country isn't dying Edgar." She finally said, her tone calm, soft and heavy. Very unlike her. "It's changing, that's all. Things change, an engineer should understand that better than most anyone. Don't you remember what it was like before? I mean a long time ago, before we were confined to a name, your name. We didn't have a name and we didn't have any boundaries. We were free and yet we were together, if that makes any sense. This place was filled with people from all over the land, it truly was the center of our country. A country with no name. I don't suppose you remember any of that."  
  
"I do, but it hasn't been that way for a long time." Edgar was caught in the memory, truly listening to what she had to say. He was too tired to argue, although somewhere in the back of his mind was curiosity of Lucile. What happened to the anger? "That was a time generations before you or I were born. And that is what you want, eh?"  
  
"What we want, is to be free." The pride filled her voice again, but now was reinforced with conviction, and perhaps even pity. But that would be wishful thinking now wouldn't it?  
  
"Hmph! What a time to be free…" Edgar lolled his head back over the chair and rubbed his face. He yawned. "Not to get off the subject, but what time is it? Is it today or tomorrow? How long have you been here?"  
  
"I don't know. And no, we're not getting off the subject." Lucile yelled with sudden frustration. The flame was rekindled and it quickly engulfed her. With a quick thrust she reached down and grabbed Edgar by the collar and lifted him up right to her face, not inches away, not millimeters away, she was pressing her forehead against his and staring at him with eyes that would wake up a drunk and sober him. "We are ending this now, understand?"  
  
Edgar could only nod, or it could have been shaking.  
  
"Why won't you grant us our independence?"  
  
"Because it will tear this country apart." Edgar replied calmly. Quickly he realized that the only way to combat Lucile's rage was with a constant calmness and sense of peace.  
  
"South Figaro is this country!"  
  
"Is it now? I guess in a sense, you're actually right, but it wasn't always that way you know."  
  
"Yes, I do know. I also now that was, as you said, a time generations past."  
  
"It can be that way again. In fact I think it has to, if Kohlingen is to survive."  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"Do you know that this castle, despite the larger rift, can still travel to that town. Underwater no less. That's how good my dad's engineering skills were." Lucile was about to reply, but Edgar raised his hand. "Be patient, this story does have a purpose. The engine's design was my grandfather's, but it's actual creation and use was entirely my father's. He also wanted Kohlingen to be a part of the kingdom again, so much so that he created the most powerful engine on the face of this planet in order to do it. He wanted things as they were a long time ago too, but as a king he had to acknowledge the reality of the situation. Kohlingen didn't need us back then because they could still trade with the southern cities, but that's not the case anymore. Now they're cut off, a small village in a harsh new world. Even Narshe could not survive it. It was only through the castles constant aid that Kohlingen still lives. I guess you could say that's where the money, water, and pride of South Figaro really goes."  
  
"I don't believe you." She said quite simply.  
  
"I don't care." Was his simple reply.  
  
Lucile shook her head, "Why can't you just say what you mean?"  
  
"Why can't you take what I say at face value?"  
  
"You expect me to believe this?"  
  
Edgar sighed and fell down into his chair once more. "Of course not, how silly of me. You're much too smart for to be fooled by such a idiot as myself. Yeah, everything I've said to you so far has been bullshit. I've decided that I dislike your meager insignificant little city of South Figaro, the only city who keeps this castle alive, so I'm gonna blow a bunch of smoke up their ambassador's ass. I don't really care about Kohlingen either, screw 'em. They'll probably die anyway, buncha idiot yokels still use outhouses. I don't suppose there's any other part of the 'arrogant idiot prince-of-a-king' profile I've yet to perform for you. Excluding of course the past offenses."  
  
"That wasn't very subtle."  
  
"Neither are you. Besides, I'm tired." Edgar smiled. "You know what, I have an idea."  
  
Lucile was now standing in front of him, hidden in shadow. Edgar was now fairly calm and even a little bit cheerful, but since he couldn't see her face, he couldn't truly know whether he'd gotten his point across. So he'd have to try something different. He waited for her reply.  
  
"What?" she asked in a normal tone that indicated nothing of her current mood. It was so normal, it sounded odd coming from her.  
  
"How bout we both sit down at this table and talk. No strenuous emotional baggage, no egos battling for supremecy. Just you…and me…here…talking."  
  
"What about?" again in no particular tone.  
  
"Anything."  
  
"Why?" Wait! There was just the slightest hint of genuine curiosity there for a moment. Or had he imagined it?  
  
"Because I want to know you better. If it pleases you, I'm trying to know my foe better. I mean, does it really matter that much to you?"  
  
Nothing, she just stood there. Edgar suddenly felt nervous again. But now it was a fear of rejection and despite this aggressive confrontation, he was still very much in love with her. This fear was a lot more personal and powerful. He waited.  
  
"Ok." She said and sat down opposite him. "What do you want to talk about?"  
  
The air of responsibility was lifted. They're argument was personal, sure, but it did involve their respective responsibilities no matter how remote. Now it was pure, they only people they were representing were themselves. But at this moment, Edgar was a man in love and as scared as he was of rejection, her acceptance now turned him into jelly just like the first time they met, and suddenly he couldn't think of a damn thing to say. He gulped, he was now more scared than he'd ever been before.  
  
What, oh what would have happened had he known that Lucile was feeling almost the exact same way. He was certainly too preoccupied with his own insecurity to notice that she was fidgeting and scratching the back of her neck and desperately looking around at everything else but him. By her very nature, she would always tend to be rather abrasive and strong-willed, but wasn't above feeling insecure or other decidedly 'weaker' feelings. But sometimes they would surface and she could only become more aggressive in order to suppress them. This began to have detrimental effects on her life. Quite simply she could not be the way she was without the proper 'excuse'. Being a town representative was it. It provided her with the reason and the responsibility gave her a sense of pride. She could be who she was and be proud of it. But now that blanket was gone somehow, as if his invitation made all the responsibilities disappear, and she felt naked. She felt embarrassment but she didn't know why. If only she could, she'd realize it was from modesty. Either way she didn't like what was happening to her and cursing herself for (and questioning why) she accepted Edgar's proposal and sat down.  
  
There was a long, shy and uncomfortable silence before either of them spoke. It was Edgar who, while desperately shifting through his mind, found a topic of discussion.  
  
"So, where are you from?"  
  
"South Figaro of course." She sounded impatient and Edgar felt like he'd just jumped off a waterfall.  
  
"No…I mean where.…in South Figaro…? I know everyone in that town, but I've never seen you before."  
  
"Up until the cataclysm, I lived on a farm with my family. But the farm was destroyed and most of my family…died. It was…difficult. Sometimes I could still hear them screaming when I dream, but they sound so far away and fade… I never wake up from those dreams, they just fade, and the only thing I remember from them is the cries that fade into nothing." Lucile's vision blurred as she talked and she bowed her head away from Edgar. She clenched her fists and the world seemed to twist around wildly. She felt a tear fall onto her hands and clenched them harder. It was gone, the self- control, and now she knew why she needed. The flood of emotions took her and there was nothing she could do. She took in a deep breath and let out a deeper sob. Then she felt hands gently grip her own.  
  
"I'm…I'm so sorry. Lucile I'm…I…"  
  
She turned and looked up at Edgar and could see that he was crying too. It made his eyes sparkle and shine like starlight. He felt helpless, she knew it somehow, in his voice, in the way he held her still clenched hands. But in him was the strength she needed and she latched onto that strength, so desperate she was to make the pain stop, to ease her heart again.  
  
"Why am I telling you this?" she whispered, still trapped in her storm.  
  
"Maybe because…you have to." Edgar replied, barely a whisper above her own. His stomach was turned inside out and his balance was gone. He felt the pull of gravity in all directions. In his mind he could picture it, the sky turning to fire, the earth ripping apart. And he could see, as he knelt down and reached out with his hand, the face of his mother fade into darkness and her voice fade into nothingness. 


	14. Chapter 7a: A Lil bit of Figaro History...

Amidst the turmoil of Vector's sudden rise to power and consequent takeover of the entire southern continent, Rene was married at the then fairly mature age of nineteen. The courtship and marriage, like his father's before him, was a surprise as well as a mystery. The object of his affection was again a complete unknown. Supposedly she was the youngest daughter of the South Figaro innkeeper and had tended to the king when he came down with a cold during a visit. It was a common joke that the girl was from Vector and that the king had been 'forced' into the marriage while under the influence. It was never taken seriously, but it was a poignant and powerful political statement. In any case, the origins of their relationship is unknown, and their marriage kept fairly quiet. The difference between father and son being the son made an active effort in making his private life private.  
  
Her name was Caroline, and while she was the youngest child in her family, she was actually Rene's senior by two years. This was difficult to believe for most people as she looked almost two years his junior. That, and her demeanor was about as imposing as a desert mouse. Often she was seen walking alone in the castle in her favorite white gown and quickly became known as the 'ghost of castle Figaro'. That was the best way to describe her really: ghost like. She almost never spoke unless necessary, but those that did hear her voice heard one that was soft, quite, beautiful, but most of all, distant. Her eyes were a silver grey that never hid or told anything about her. One never felt like she was actually there when they talked to her. Even her body looked like it could be knocked down by a not- so-stiff breeze. But no one ever considered her weak. Like Sylvia before her, she ruled the country, not behind the crown but beside it.  
  
Rene and Caroline did love each other and simply could not be without each other for any long periods of time. After a short visit to a neighboring country, Rene got the inspiration to build a queens throne beside his own. He abandoned a full day to it and for the first time, completely ignored a visit from the ambassador of the empire, an extremely dangerous thing to do. Rene didn't care and when it was finished he personally placed and nailed it down in the throne room. It turned out to be smaller than his own and would forever be misinterpreted as an attempt to make sure she 'knew her place', when in fact a larger chair would have been too big and uncomfortable. Goodness knows he had hell when dealing with his own. After he was finished and Caroline was with him, a startling discovery was made.  
  
After only a few days it was very clear that Caroline was meant to be on the throne. She was a ruler, the wisdom and power one only felt when conversing was know completely unleashed in the throne room. At first it took Rene by surprise and his skills as a king suffered forcing her to take up the slack. Observing her he was awed by that power that she'd hidden within her, but he also realized she could not be queen alone and soon he was back in full form. In fact, with Caroline at his side, he became stronger. They became king and queen and openly ruled the country together equally, feeding off each others' strengths. Never before or after did Figaro achieve and prosper as much as it did then. This energy fueled also Rene's inventive spirit. He finished the engine for the sinking machine and set up the castle generator to power it. Unfortunately it could only be rarely used since it took up so much fuel. These were the high times of Figaro and as is often the case in history, they blinded Rene from an impending threat.  
  
The Empire, as it was now called, had presented Rene with one of the most confounding questions of his life. Their sudden rise to power had taken him completely by surprise while he was in the midst of trying to figure out a very strange puzzle. One of the personal benefits of the relationship between Vector and Figaro was that Rene had an opportunity to clear out his personal quarters of all his unfinished or unrealistic ideas. Blueprints for his walking machines, flying machines, and other assorted garbage as he saw it, were sent to Vector as goodwill. It wasn't that he didn't think they could work (he knew for a fact they could), but there just wasn't a strong enough source of power that could make mass production feasible. That is what he believed, until spy photographs (one of the few invention's he wasn't responsible for) showed that Vector had in fact, begun producing large numbers of his walking machines, slightly altered for obvious military use. And what amazed him most was that they were working! These giant iron behemoths (the animal for which he largely based the design) were walking about, seemingly by their own power! It was a puzzle that completely consumed his inventor's spirit and quickly overcame his royal sensibilities. The mystery behind the power source for the machinations so clouded his judgement, that he was totally unaware of the reality that they were being used to conquer all of the southern continent. By the time he came to his senses, it was too late, and now he would have to deal with 'The Empire', whose military might had somehow far exceeded Figaro's. Then one day, while having dinner with his wife, he was presented with another event he would have to deal with. He was going to be a father. 


	15. Chapter 8: Ghosts in the Castle

Sabin slowly awoke, very slowly. Even after he opened his eyes, things were blurry, including his memory. Lessee, he opened the door and Lucile was there, he greeted her, she looked mad and then he said something and she got madder and then she said… Sabin was suddenly gripped with a fear he didn't understand.  
  
Okay…best to leave that alone. Slowly he got up as his head and vision cleared. As he got to his feet, he felt an odd coldness on his left leg. He looked down and noticed the dark streak and immediately froze in a moment of pure self-conscious panic. With wide eyes, he jerked his head up to see if anyone noticed, and upon noticing Lucile and Edgar talking on the other side of the room, his memory became clearer. Didn't really help the fact that he had to somehow get outta of the room to change without those two noticing. Okay, what were his options. Couldn't go through the side door to the bridge, the wind would give him away instantly. That left the stairs. Time to see if he could be stealthy…  
  
With all the control he could muster, he slowly moved himself across the room next to the wall, but never hugging it. The lamps direct light would instantly expose him. It really wasn't all that difficult, he had the control and stealth capabilities. That, and he was aware that Edgar and Lucile seemed rather distracted by each other, something that he couldn't help but feel a little bit giddy about. His brother…in love. Wow, who would've guessed really? It kinda made him wonder if he'll find his special someone… Sabin felt the cool dampness of the violated piece of garment touch his thigh and he was immediately awake and quickly focused again on getting the hell outta there. Soon he was crouched at the stairs and as slowly as one would think humanly possible, he extended his foot onto the steps, praying they wouldn't creak. As his foot fell on the cold of the hard, ungiving, and silent stone steps, he breathed a sigh of release and jumped down the stairs as quickly as possible, no longer caring whether they could here him or not. With a swish and a click, the door to the kings personal quarters was behind him and now he could go about changing his pants.  
  
Quickly he was in his own room opening the closet and getting redressed. Looking at his stained pants, he was forced into questioning what brought this embarrassment about. He knew that she, the She-Demon really, said some things to him. What were they? Sabin looked at his pants again and quickly threw them in the laundry bin. On second thought, he didn't really need to know. Quickly enough he was showered and dressed and ready for a knew day. He looked up at the clock.  
  
It said 1:30.  
  
Sabin took a moment for some inner reflection and decided that he wasn't all that sleepy. He hadn't been very sleepy as of late. So he decided to take a walk. He wanted to take a stroll outside, it being night and therefore cool, but he'd felt the winds—and the sand it carried—on the way to his room. No, it would be the inner halls tonight. Perhaps now he could go in search of his old hiding places and secret passages. Quickly he went to the closet and grabbed a sand blanket (no way was he forgetting it this time) and was down the stairs and out of the door to the outside.  
  
He was as strong as an ox, one who had held up the frame of a house and a steel girder, but he still had one hell of a time closing the door behind him as he entered the main castle. He couldn't hear a damn thing except the wild screaming of the wind as it pushed against the door with the strength of nature, but with one last push, man won against nature. Sabin leaned against the door and slid down to the floor with a puff. Whew! It was gonna be a while 'fore he was gonna be able to go back to his room.  
  
Slowly Sabin got up and dusted himself off. He took off his parka and placed in on the doorknob. He'd probably lose it and if he wanted to go back to his room he'd have to come this way. Foolproof.  
  
He was in the lower west (or was it east, oh screw it) entry hall and the only rout to take was the stairs leading up to either the library or the other guest quarters. He never could figure it out. He remembered that as a kid living in a symmetrical house was hell when trying to learn his right from his left. His brother never let him up about it he remembered with a chuckle as he walked up the stairs. Soon enough he was up the stairs and in the library. Ah, that's right, the Library. How cold he forget?  
  
Sabin took a deep breath and smiled. It always seemed strange to him that a library could smell, although he didn't know if it could be considered a smell. It was like just before and after a rain outside, you didn't even need to smell it, you just breathed it in because it was everywhere. The smell of books was like that, and if it could be described, Sabin couldn't think of calling it anything but ancient. Wisdom and history saturated the place, as he imagined it would any place filled with the books. When he was young, that same feeling of ages made this place practically unbearable for him. But if he'd ever needed to find his big bro, this would be the place. He'd thought his brother was seriously unbalanced to actually like this place, but he soon realized there was nothing he could do to change it.  
  
Sabin walked up to the main desk and put his hand on it, lost in memories.  
  
There was Edgar, sitting at the desk, face hidden behind the latest book and who-knows-what. Sabin really didn't care, he wanted to get back to the girl he was talking to. He was pretty sure he was making headway. Then that chancellor's messenger boy of a son had to come and ask for his brother. Why'd he have to get him? They weren't above responding to anyone else in the castle fer crying out loud. Oh well, at least he left the girl with a great line.  
  
'I see no one but you, my starlight.' Oh man, that was great! You couldn't ask for something more romantic. She'll be sittin there giddy as a schoolgirl…hehehe…she was.  
  
"Come on Ed. Playtime's over. Ya got chores to finish bro." Sabin laid a hand on his brother's shoulder. Edgar looked up from his books and stared at his brother.  
  
"Hmph. What're you so happy about? You usually never like being round here. Finally decided to wise up?"  
  
"None of your business. Now get going." Sabin was impatient, he didn't know how long the girl would wait.  
  
Edgar looked at him and suddenly smiled. "I see. Alright then, I'm off" He closed the book and took it with him as went to the door. Just before leaving, he turned and his brother. "Good luck."  
  
Sabin suddenly felt red and would've yelled out something clever and witty if Edgar hadn't already closed the door behind him. Actually having something clever and witty to say probably would've helped too, but Sabin didn't have time to think right now. He had to get back, lickity-split.  
  
He ran to the doorway and left with a slam.  
  
Sabin stared at the door for a while. A week later (or maybe two, he wasn't sure) his mother would die. They would never find out what killed her. It wasn't until their father died that the investigation was halted, a full year later. He let out a deep, almost choked sigh. Suddenly he heard a light sobbing from behind him. He turned around and looked down the aisle of a bookshelf.  
  
It was quite a sight to see. The entire shelf had been knocked over. Books were everywhere and there, in the middle, was Edgar, crying like the baby he was. Sabin just couldn't believe it. Only his brother could create such a disaster. Considering his own pranks, he was fairly envious of his brother's innate ability to cause massive amounts of chaos without even trying. He couldn't help but grin. Up until now, dusting these stupid shelves was punishment disguised as a chore for a seven year old.  
  
"Oooooooh! You're gonna get in trouuble, you're gonna get in trouuuble. I'm telling!" Sabin was off to make good his threat, but Edgar suddenly gripped his arm with the strength of an escaped convict.  
  
"Please! Please, don't tell! I'll do anything you want! I promise!" Edgar's eyes were saucer's of fear.  
  
Sabin looked up and he scratched his chin, playing it up for Edgar's benefit. Although he was genuinely deep in thought. It suddenly occurred to him that he might get blamed for this, it was just the kind of situation where he would be considered the main suspect…unjustly he might add. At best, they would both be blamed and he'd just be dragged down with his clumsy brother. So tattling probably was outta the question, but Edgar didn't know that, and there was no way in heck he was gonna let this opportunity by. He looked back down at Edgar, who was kneeled down in front of him, and raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Anything?"  
  
Edgar looked down at the ground, suddenly aware of the devil he was gonna have to make a deal with. With a heavy sigh, he answered. "Yeah…anything."  
  
"Well then, here's what you're gonna do…"  
  
As Sabin spoke, Edgar just became more and more depressed. Eventually he stopped and they both began to pick up the books.  
  
Sabin chuckled, they only just barely fixed the mess before the librarian entered to check on their progress. They were caught two days later after the shelf collapsed again. Sabin was annoyed at the news, that was a lot of work for a couple of seven year olds. They were brought before their father and Edgar squealed like the stuck pig. Sabin could've have throttled the little coward, but in truth he was just as afraid and would've spilled guts only moments afterwards. Still, the fear was always worth it. Even then, he knew he didn't see his father enough. You never know how much you truly value someone until they're gone.  
  
He wandered down the aisles, running his hands along the spines of the books. Of all of the time he'd lived in the castle as a boy, the library was the place he'd was in the most. Whether it was looking for his brother, making out behind the shelves, or forced into studying for school, but he never actually bothered to explore it as he did the rest of the castle. Not even when he was very young, too young to know that a library was boring. As he now wandered the aisles, smelling the age of the books, feeling it everywhere, he couldn't understand why he hadn't noticed before, hadn't appreciated it. A lot of the most important events of his life happened in this place. He walked back to the desk to find Edgar sitting there again. He wasn't reading a book.  
  
He was just sitting there, like a lump on a log. Sabin took one look and hesitated. Should he approach him? What answers will he give? He doesn't look very happy. But he needed to know what was wrong, what was wrong with dad.  
  
Sabin had just come from the main hall. The whole place had been packed with people, ambassadors, delegates, politicians of every sort. Even Sabin had trouble pushing through all of them to the front door. Everyone was talking and the sea of sound was almost as stifling as the people. He picked up some of the comments as he tried to reach the front doors.  
  
"They say it was slipped in the ceremonial greeting drink—"  
  
"—like the mafia. The Empire gets what—"  
  
"—if that should ever happen to me…oh I don't—"  
  
"—not much longer now—"  
  
"—of the sons? Who—"  
  
"—the princes—"  
  
"—who—"  
  
"—the successor—"  
  
"—the king—"  
  
He didn't understand the things he heard, but the fear they seemed to fill him with made him not want to understand. Not from them at least. He had to find his brother, and there was rarely but one place to look.  
  
And there he was, looking down at the desk, seeming to be in deep thought. He hesitated, but he needed to know. He walked up to Edgar.  
  
"Brother, what's wrong with father? What's all this talk of his successor?"  
  
Edgar suddenly looked at him with fire in his eyes. "Are you blind?! Look how thin his face has become!"  
  
"Wha…" Sabin took a step forward, but Edgar jumped up and walked towards the stairs. "…what is it?"  
  
Edgar suddenly ran down the stairs.  
  
"Brother!" Sabin was filled with dread. He suddenly felt like something was happening slowly and painfully, but there was nothing he could do to change it. When he was young, he'd dropped a very important clay jar his mother had made. It seemed to fall so slowly, but he never reached down to grab it. It took forever to reach the floor, but his arms just wouldn't do what he told them. He was trapped in his own body and all he could do was watch as his mother's precious gift was destroyed. "Tears?" Sabin looked down at the desk.  
  
He could see teardrops forming on the desk. He took a deep breath and walked towards the doors. He felt like exploring more of the castle.  
  
He opened the door that exited the library and the doorknob was yanked out of his hand. He was greeted again by the screams of nature and his face was buffed to a nice red by the sands. It took all of five minutes to get the door closed again, but he was forced outside to do it. Now he had to find shelter again. But he wasn't going back into the library. He decided that he'd try the main hall. Clinging to the walls he was able to shimmy up to the main hall doors. He opened the one opening with the wind. They were a lot bigger than the regular iron doors, almost as big as the doors of the gate. If the wind caught either one, Sabin could never hope to close 'em. Luckily he was able to press through.  
  
Inside at last, Sabin sat down to catch his breath, and looked around. The entire place was empty which he would've found odd, if he wasn't so exhausted. He rested for he didn't know how long, although he was pretty sure he didn't go to sleep. Eventually he stood up and walked around. The main hall was one his favorite places in the castle as a kid, both because of the large amount of people he could toy with and it was the place with the largest hiding holes and secret passages. Everyone else may have called it the main hall, he called it the fun house.  
  
He walked around awhile, checking torches and draperies and any tiles that seemed slightly discolored or out of place. Some of the secrets he remembered, some he rediscovered, but after about an hour of exploring, he still felt like he hadn't found all of them. He couldn't think of any else he used to use, but it was like there was one last passage left that he just had to find before leaving. At least he knew there was a very important one, but he'd yet to discover it. It was the most important one, but he didn't know why. He continued his search for almost another hour before suddenly stopping in the middle of the room and just…froze. He simply stood there, with an intense look on his face, as if trying to hear something. Very, very slowly Sabin turned towards the left wall of the hall and walked forward. He reached out and pushed a brick that looked no different than any of the others. It gave way to his hand to his right, the brick wall suddenly deposited all the dust it had collected and moved back and revealed a secret passage that would seem to lead to the west outer wall of the castle. Sabin wasted no time and walked through. It would turn out to be a very short tunnel, but until he was almost out on the other side, there was little to no light. Sabin practically fell out of the tunnel and stumbled onto soft dirt that promptly flew into the air and right in his face, blinding him. He began to cough and stumble around which only threw up more dirt. Soon enough he stopped moving and waited for the dust to settle.  
  
As the dust cleared, it slowly revealed the room to Sabin. The first thing he noticed was that the roof and walls were made of glass, but with flat wooden boards placed outside (no doubt painted like brick on the outside) and most of the glass had been shattered. The second was the striking design of the iron framework. The bars were bent and twisted into vines and leaves to which the panes of glass that made the walls and roof were attached. A forest of metal with now faded, broken stained glass flowers and rusted iron, but it was still and would always be the most beautiful greenhouse Sabin would ever know. As he looked around at this discovery, he heard the sweetest voice he'd ever known sing the most enchanting song he'd ever hear. He looked down at the ground and saw her.  
  
She was knelt down next to some bright red tomatoes. Sabin scrunched his face up as if he'd just tasted something bitter, he absolutely hated tomatoes. He didn't care how good they were for him, and the fact that they weren't green didn't matter to him one iota. Why couldn't his mom make gardens for foods he liked. He ate fruits, hell, he just loved those bright green apples that grew just north of South Figaro. They made his jaw hurt when he ate 'em, but that didn't matter to him either. Of course, he did care if it still had it's skin or not. His brother used to tease him about it, but a few smacks upside the head would always quiet him. He chuckles softly and then jerked his hand over his mouth, afraid that he'd given himself away. Ten years old and he was still an idiot. He'd been hiding in the entrance way to the greenhouse for the past five minutes finding out what it was his mother always did when she wasn't around him or Edgar. So far, it seemed that she hadn't taken notice of him. Sabin slowly withdrew his hand and breathed a heavy and silent sight of relief, then continued to watch.  
  
For the longest time, Sabin believed he'd figured out all the nooks and crannies and other assorted blemishes in this castle, and then in the middle of what was to be his ultimate joke on the chancellor, he happened to spy his mom going by…directly towards the target spot in front of the throne doors. She was only two steps away. Hidden in his own secret area, Sabin sweated bullets. Even if he exposed himself and his plan to save her, he wouldn't reach her in time anyway. All he could do was close his eyes, grit his teeth and await the inevitable. After the inevitable came and went without anything to show for it, the little boy opened his eyes and took a small peek out his hiding hole. The trap was still set up, but his mother was no longer in view. The quick flash of annoyance that his trap in fact didn't work quickly passed and he peeked around the corner to find his mother staring at the west wall. Okay…that was odd. Then she reached out her hand and pushed at one of the bricks. That was odder, until the wall to her right moved to expose a secret entrance. Then it didn't seem so odd. At least not to his mother, she simply approached and walked through the secret door as if it were any common entrance. Sabin followed.  
  
He entered the tunnel, as it turned out to be, and was immersed in its darkness. It didn't phase him, he'd been exploring passages like this for years. He continued on slowly and as quietly as he could until he reached the other end. Even before he exited, he was aware that the room in front of him had no other exits and he would find his mom there. It suddenly occurred to him that maybe she wouldn't want him here. There were times, when he was younger, that she would often ask him (she almost never commanded him) to please play with his brother whenever he began to follow her in her wanderings around the castle. He never understood, but he always obeyed. Maybe the reason was in there. Slowly he crept up to the exit and peeked out. As he looked into the room, his breath left him.  
  
He had been transported to a forest. Plants and vegetation completely covered the floor and blocked a large part of his view. The walls and the roof were glass that was mostly a very light green, but the iron bars that held them was bent and twisted into impossibly intricate shapes. Trees whose details were captured down to the veins of each individual leaf, flowers and each blade of grass expressed a glass forest of unparalleled beauty and realism. The shafts of sunlight shone through the roof in different many different hues, but mostly a very light green which fell on the rows upon rows of plant life. And there amidst the vines and flowers was Sabin's mother. Her white gown reflected the sunlight and made shine like a fallen star. Sabin decided he'd watch his mother awhile and find out why she didn't want him to know about it. And so he had watched her do nothing more than tend to one tomato plant for the past five minutes. All thing considered, he should have been bored by now, but he wasn't.  
  
Sabin loved his mom dearly, but even so, he had to admit that she probably wasn't what one would consider a 'normal' person, let alone mother. That didn't matter, she showed her love for her children as much as any other mother. As a matter of fact, Sabin was proud of her supposed strangeness. She was a mother like no other.  
  
Sabin snickered and then remembering himself jerked his hand over his mouth again and froze. He felt sure that his mother had heard him that time. He was right.  
  
"Come on out child, your caught." There was only the slightest hint of disdain in her quiet voice, but it pierced Sabin like an arrow. He slowly got up and that semi-disorientation that he always felt whenever she was cross with him almost made him tip over. He saved himself an embarrassing fall and slowly trudged towards his mother. She never turned away from her ultimate objective of tending to the plants, but usually that was worse than better.  
  
"If it helps," Sabin stammered, "I was thinking of you when I laughed…heh heh…ahem."  
  
"Oh really?" she replied, "and what about me did you find so funny?"  
  
"Well…uh…" somehow telling her what he thought outweighed his fear of not responding…well, almost. "I thought you were like…amotherlikenoother!" He spilled out and then clamped his mouth shut. He said it, and it turned out to be a great relief to get it outta his system. It would make whatever her response would be easier to bear.  
  
She finally stopped what she was doing and looked at her son. She cocked an eyebrow and had an odd little smirk on her face. "Well as a matter of fact boy, it does help." She smiled.  
  
Sabin smiled and they both laughed and hugged each other.  
  
"Sabin, I can't say I'm not disappointed with ya though. You're usually much more careful at concealing yourself. You were a lot quieter behind the draperies."  
  
That first part would usually have Sabin feeling like a knife just went through him, but she was still smiling that odd knowing smirk, and Sabin somehow knew that he wasn't in trouble. He could just tell, he didn't know why. Didn't really care either.  
  
"Well, I wasn't comfortable there...wait a minute! How—"  
  
"A mother always keeps tabs on her children." Was all she would say.  
  
"Oh…" Sabin suddenly remembered the trap. He gasped and then lost his ability to breath in.  
  
"Oh yeah," she continued quite nonchalantly, "I forgot to mention. The chancellor is in South Figaro visiting family, so the only person who will be going through the throne room doors…is your father."  
  
"How did you—"  
  
"Shouldn't you be running towards your little invention as if you life depended on it. Cause if I'm not mistaken, it is."  
  
As much as he was confounded by her astonishing powers of perception, she was right. If he didn't stop his own creation, he couldn't imagine seeing her again for another ten to twenty years. With a dash he was off…until he heard his mother coughing. As he entered the doorway, he turned around and found that his running had kick an immense cloud of dust. Somewhere in there was his mother, who would now have to go back to her room and dust herself off. Sabin continued to run, there was no way he was going back there now.  
  
The dust had completely settled, and Sabin himself giggling. He got to the throne room doors just in time to shove his father out of the way, a great feat in and of itself for a ten year old. Unfortunately he became his own victim and was drenched in water and sand. He was punished on the spot rather leniently Sabin thought…at first. He would be forced to go through the rest of the day as is and would have to clean up the mess made on the carpet till there was no sand on it. He spent the rest of the day cleaning the carpet until his father let him go. Sabin now fondly remembered a common saying among the maids of the castle.  
  
"Only a fool would try to kick the sand out of its own home. Heh! Too true…"  
  
He turned around and walked back down the passage. The wall followed him and was back in it's original place with no seam showing to give it away. He kinda felt complete now, at least there were no other passages to find, so now he'd have to explore elsewhere. He walked up the front doors and hesitated. Getting in was easy, but he didn't know if he could get out again without the wind catching and slamming the doors wide open again. Well he'd have to open them anyway just to get back to his room. With all his strength he gripped the right door and tried to open it as slowly as possible. It was an agonizingly long time as he opened it, hearing the wind scream, sure that at any moment the rings would be yanked from his hands. Even before the gap was large enough to fit him, he sucked in his stomach as much as he could and through desperation alone squeezed through. Now back in the storm he walked down towards the front gates as nature raged. He was now used to it. Suddenly gust of wind blew sand straight into his eyes and he began to dance around madly. Well okay, not really.  
  
He wasn't sure how, but Sabin found himself at the entrance way. It certainly wasn't what he'd planned. Quickly he was reminded (again) that the door out of the main hall led outside. Well, there was only one place he had yet to visit. He hugged the walls again, heading towards the entrance to the castle and after a quick dash and strenuous shove, he was inside. Now he was faced with the choice of heading down to the engine room or the castle dungeon. He decided that the engine room would be neat to explore. He couldn't even remember if he'd ever been down there as a kid. He walked down the stairs and found himself in the dungeon. Apparently, he still had a little work to do on his left and right. He blamed it on the storm.  
  
It turned out he was not alone. There sitting in a chair, was a the large man that had accompanied Lucile. He looked up at Sabin and his face suddenly twisted into a hard stare. He rose up and grasped his sword handle and before Sabin could react, unsheathed it and walked towards Sabin.  
  
"You disgraced me with that cheap shot in the throne room when we first met. I demand retribution."  
  
Sabin by reflex spread his legs out into a fighting stance and concentrated as prepared a blitz. The large man leaped and landed in front of him and raised his sword before Sabin could finish. He brought the sword down and it pierced the wooden table that was next him. Sabin stopped his preparation and stared at the man. He thrust out his arm at Sabin.  
  
"We settle this with your arm against mine."  
  
Sabin now understood and his face in turn became hard. He gripped his opponent and they both sat down on the table and place their elbows down firmly in place.  
  
"Ready?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Go!" 


	16. Chapter 8a: A Lil bit of Figaro History...

It was the most difficult time in his life and it is widely agreed that it ended up killing him. The Empire now encompassed all of the southern world and had cut off trade with all surrounding countries, yet had not formally ended their treaty with Figaro. Indeed, they still sent emissaries, now more than ever requesting what was first menial changes in the treaty. They're increased visits, if not the requests, were themselves indications of the change in power. As the years passed it became apparent that it was Figaro now who was now allied with the Empire and slowly becoming its puppet state. Rene felt helpless to stop it, and as the years wore on and more and more concessions were allowed, the king began to change. He became more private, public access to the throne room had now been completely eliminated, and his temperament became more aggressive and erratic. His anger became infamous, but far worse was his growing bitterness and cynicism. Most of all however he became tired and old beyond his years. If his body was drained twofold, one look in his eyes and you saw a man drained fourfold in spirit. It was by far the worst change, and the most common. And still the Empire grew while Figaro weakened. It was a slow and painful decay and those that were aware of it blamed the Empire and the countries growing hatred for it matched Rene's declining condition. And so it was at the worst of times that the greatest tragedy befell Figaro. The first Queen of Figaro died, the cause was unknown. At the time of her death, the Empire had become far more bolder in its aggressions and so most assumed it was to blame. They would have been right, except Caroline died two days before the barge that was to bring her assassin arrived in South Figaro (when he returned he took the credit and the money only to be crushed in a construction accident just outside the imperial halls while leaving). Everyone in the kingdom was screaming for war, Edgar and Sabin most of all. The queen had been very dear to the country, she was Figaro's first 'queen mother' and her loss was something that drove the country into hysterics. Rene however did not declare war and he paid dearly for his actions. The entire country and his own sons turned against him. But he pressed forward and stood firm. Then one day, he called forth both of his sons to speak to him. They entered the throne room and an entire night and a day passed before they came out again. What happened in the throne room is never recorded, but it was clear when all three exited that something profound had occurred. Edgar and Sabin left the castle and went about the country staging talks defending their father's decision and trying to prevent full-scale rebellion. They said they're father was doing the right thing and that their mother would not want the people to throw their lives away because of her. It worked, if only because the princes truly believed in what they were telling the people. Such a one-eighty was parallel to the change in their father after Caroline's death. Rene became a father again, despite the fact that his responsibilities had become even more compounded. He took time to begin teaching his sons the finer points of ruling a kingdom and even began to go back to his lab and start tinkering again, something he hadn't done in a long time. Some said his wife's soul became a part of him and helped him go on, other's said he simply realized that he had to in order to properly prepare the princes for the crown, but most didn't care and were just glad that their old king was back. It almost made his decision not to fight forgivable. And so time passed until Rene's death by poisoning. In a bitter twist of fate, the brothers were forced to conceal the Empire's treachery and claim that their father committed suicide in order to prevent a similar reaction to that of Caroline's death. Nobody believed them, but oddly enough, no one made a fuss. As it turned out, the people of Figaro were waiting patiently for the Empire to turn it's eye to Figaro, and they let the hatred and anger simmer as they waited for an attack that many were actually awaiting with anticipation. They were fully aware of the Empires thirst for power as news of their campaigns in Doma spread across the world. They could wait for their revenge. During all this, the last thing on everyone's mind was magic, but the rumors began to spread. It would certainly explain the Empires power. That the Empire would be arrogant enough to use the dark arts only helped to fuel the anger. It was the king's wisest decision when he decided to keep secret the news of an imperial witch that may have defected in Narshe. 


	17. Chapter 9: Tears

"I have never seen anyone weep as you do." "What?" Edgar awoke from his vision disoriented. Lucile suddenly turned away and fell out of the lamp light. Edgar squinted, did he just see her blush? "What I mean is.you." Lucile sighed in frustration and there was a pause before she spoke again in a quiet voice. "Your face becomes blank, like your dead. The only thing that show life is your eyes yet only one sheds tears. What causes you so much pain?"  
  
Lucile's suddenly bowed her head down, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked th-" "I was thinking about my mother." Edgar replied quietly. He stared blankly into space. "She died when I was young, but I remember so much about her. She's all I remember clearly of my childhood. I'm very grateful for that." "She died when you were about fifteen, didn't she?" Lucile asked cautiously. She was suddenly very afraid of what she might say. For the first time, she was beginning to realize that Edgar was a man, a normal human being. She'd never seen him as anything but a king. No, not even that.he was the enemy. "I woke up that day and felt the same as I did every other day." Edgar answered, but he didn't look at her and continued as if he hadn't heard her. "As I was putting on my boots, the matron came in with a strange look on her face. I assumed she looked that way cause my room was a mess. She always scolded me about my sloppiness. I didn't have time to sit up and tell her I was going to clean up before she told me my mother was dead. I can't remember anything after that until the memorial. All sorts of people from all over the world were there, almost a thousand. Nobody I knew. Me and my brother were forced to wear our formal attire and we both hated it. We knew it would mean all these people we didn't know would be kneeling down and giving out condolences like greeting cards. I didn't want to be constantly reminded of my mom's death by people who were complete strangers. My brother felt the same way. We tore off the royal seals and removed our rings. We removed anything from our clothing that would make people think we were the princes, but we had no pockets to put them in. The matron was with us and was supposed to parade us around the room to all the foreign leaders and assorted 'men of influence' so they could condole us personally. My brother was trying to figure out how to sneak away, but she let us go and took our seals and rings and hid them in her clothes." Edgar stopped suddenly and laughed softly. "I'm just now realizing that if she'd been caught, by law she would've been put to death for treason." His smile faded, "I never did appreciate her enough." Lucile waited patiently. It was finally clear to her that she was not a part of this conversation, but for some reason, it was okay. She wondered if Edgar had ever told this to anyone else. Something told her he hadn't. "They all talked about mom, all the nobles and businessmen that were there, as if her death was some minor political event in history. They all wondered how it would delay negotiations for this or if that act would be ratified sooner. I grew to hate these people in less than five minutes.thank the Goddesses I wasn't armed. Then through all the background noise, I heard someone mention The Empire. I was young man and up until then, The Empire was just some distant place my dad had problems dealing with. But now I was filled with hate for everyone in there, but they didn't care. All that hate had to go somewhere and there I was, a fifteen year old hearing everyone say how The Empire murdered my mother. I went to find my father. Just after I realized I couldn't find my father in the crowd, I realized that I was looking for him. I never wanted to be anywhere near my father before, I was scared to death of him. Suddenly a completely unexpected realization hit me. I didn't want my dad, I just wanted someone else to protect me now that mom was dead. I wanted him to replace her, that was all. My stomach turned and I ran to the bathroom and threw up in the sink. When I looked up into the mirror, only one eye was shedding tears." Edgar looked up and stared at Lucile. The story was over, but she didn't know how to respond. Nobody had ever confided in her before, not like this. What could she say? "What stopped you?" Edgar stared at her. "What stopped you from going after the empire? Why did you stay allies with them, even after they had killed both your parents?" Edgar replied with an oddly quiet tone, as one who had found a sort of inner peace. He sounded very calm. "Figaro would've been annihilated." "They killed your parents." She replied calmly, yet her tone was slightly louder. "What does it matter?" "It matters to a king." Was Edgar's reply, "It must matter." Lucile turned away, suddenly filled with shame as she realized what he was trying to tell her. "After my mother's death, me and my brother were summoned to the throne room. Inside, our father was waiting. The doors behind us were closed and for the first time in out lives, we were completely alone with out father. Did you ever hear about that?" Lucile nodded, "For an entire night and day, the doors remained closed." It was a line from a popular poem concerning the death of Queen Caroline. "Nothing really exciting happened. Nowhere near the ridiculous stories that have been spread about. Mostly we just got re-equainted with each other, talking about such mundane things as grades, girls, and hobbies. For hours uncounted we reminisced. There was nearly nine years of catching up to do. Dad talked about what it was like before we were born and what it was like afterwards. It was the most difficult time in his life. The Empire now encompassed all of the southern world and had cut off trade with all surrounding countries, yet had not formally ended their treaty with Figaro. Indeed, they still sent emissaries, now more than ever requesting what was first menial changes in the treaty. They're increased visits, if not the requests, were themselves indications of the change in power. As the years passed it became apparent that it was Figaro now who was now allied with the Empire and slowly becoming its puppet state. My father felt helpless to stop it, and as the years wore on and more and more concessions were allowed, he began to change. He became more private, public access to the throne room was completely eliminated. His anger became infamous, but far worse was his growing bitterness and cynicism. Most of all however he became tired and old beyond his years. If his body was drained twofold, one look in his eyes and you saw a man drained fourfold in spirit. It was by far the worst change, and the most common. And still the Empire grew while Figaro weakened. It was a slow and painful decay. We were never aware of this. He said our births saved him from madness. He said we were his escape, his chance to feel the love of a family against the politics and pressure he was forced to constantly endure. He knew that these years would be his only chance at being the father he could not be when the pressure became too great. But strength is not eternal and time decays all as the old saying goes. I never remembered any of that, I was probably too young. The Empire did not stop its relentless conquests for our family. Time passes and we grew and dad was finding it more and more difficult to find time for us. He was told our first words from mom and only because he was told of Sabin's first steps by a royal messenger was he able to witness mine. We were slipping away much quicker than he expected and that is when his anger and bitterness grew. The empire was dragging him away and he could do nothing about it. The situation was peaked when he forgot our seventh birthday. It wasn't that he hadn't been able to go, that had begun as early as our fifth birthday, but he'd forgot. The day came and went and he had no idea. He told us that was when he realized he'd reached the point of no return. In his heart, he had failed us completely and after that he gave up. He lost himself in his work and no longer made any attempts to make time for us. There was no point anymore. He was ashamed of himself, as if he'd wronged us and could not be forgiven.he'd tried and failed. He was an angry and bitter person again and that was the man I remembered from when I was young. That was his confession. Then me and my brother told him what it was like for us when we were young. What it was like without him, how we felt. After that, we talked about mom. We talked about her the longest. It was the one connection between all three of us. It was the strongest one. We all loved her more than anything else in the world. That is when my brother and I asked.no, demanded retribution from the Empire for her death. It wasn't until I found out that he wasn't going to retaliate for mom's death that I realized I was angry with my father. I had been angry with him for a long time, angry at the fear his presence caused me. I had kept that anger hidden, even from myself up until then. And in that room it poured out of me. I will never again utter what I said to him, but I will never forget it. Even my brother, enraged by dad's apparent cowardice knew that my anger was deeper and older. After I was finished, my father fell silent for a long time." Edgar paused and let out a deep sigh. "I don't know if I should continue." "I." Lucile began. "I think you do know Edgar." Before she was even aware of it, she reached out and held Edgar's hand. He looked into her with questioning eyes. Lucile smiled back and a warm, comforting feeling come over her. There was a feeling of inner peace that she had never felt before. No longer unsure or insecure, she felt all her fears just disappear. It was very nice and she didn't want the feeling to go away.ever. Edgar smiled back. "Okay." He slowly put his hand over hers and continued. "My father spoke again after awhile. He no longer looked at us as he spoke. His gaze was far away as if he was recalling an ancient memory. This is what he said: 'When I awoke I turned to her and as soon as I saw her face, I knew she was gone. I just knew. I got out of bed and walked over the dresser drawer and removed a dagger I kept there in case of intruders. I walked back to the bed and knelt beside her and placed the blade across my throat. There it stayed for an instant and an eternity. I moved the knife away and looked down at it. My vision was blurry but I saw two teardrops fall on the blade. It fell from my hand and to the floor and I followed, landing on my side and weeping. The storm inside me that had been raging poured out into the tears and onto the floor. My sorrow, my anger, all of it passed through and out of me. I'd never wept like that before, it drained me. I wept for you. It was terrible and then it stopped, just like that, it was over. I got up and picked up the knife off the floor and placed in back in the drawer. Then I kneeled down beside her and lifted her head and gently kissed her on the forehead. Thank you, my love.' This last thing he said to neither of us or to himself. I felt strange, as if I wasn't supposed to be a direct part of what was happening. It was as if I was there to remember and record what happened there for posterity. I didn't feel like I belonged there, except as an observer. I suddenly felt a desperate urge to just run away. I wanted to bury myself in the desert sands and just wait for starvation and thirst to kill me. My father wept with no tears and my brother shed tears without weeping. I merely stood there, lost in my own miseries trapped between a desire to run and whatever it was that held me back. But before I could make a decision, my father spoke once more. He said that the empire was not responsible for our mother's death, but that he was. As he fell into his madness he dragged her down with him. His pain drained her life until she could not give anymore. He alone was responsible and he alone deserved judgement. Then he took out a dagger and threw it before our feet. Sabin stepped back in horror, but I knelt down and picked up the weapon. That feeling of detachment melted away and I now knew what I supposed to do. I walked up the steps towards my father and stopped in front of the throne. He looked up and me and then down at the ground and waited. I raised the knife into the air. I think my brother called out to me, but I'm not sure. All I heard clearly was my father weeping and I saw the tears fall onto the carpet. I dropped the knife and brought my hand down to my side. I turned away and walked to the throne room doors. My brother stared at me, but I ignored him. Just before I opened the doors, I heard my father call out to me. It was no more than a whisper from the throne on the other side of the room, yet I heard it as clear as a winds of the sand. 'Edgar, I'm so sorry.' I left the throne room and don't remember anything afterwards until I awoke the next day." "Why?" Lucile whispered hoarsely, her voice failing her. "Why do you tell me these things? What do you want of me?" She backed away from the table and arose, and then began to weep. "So much sorrow. Why?!" Edgar suddenly looked up at her as one who was awakened suddenly from a waking dream and found they had done a great evil while in the darkness. He arose and turned away, filled with shame and guilt. "Your right! I'm sorry! I should not have." Lucile grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him to face her. She still wept. "But you did Edgar! Why? I want to know!" Edgar was suddenly filled with a deep fear. "I.I can't!" "Why!?" "Because!" Edgar cried out before realizing it. His eyes looked at Lucile's and he knew there was no turning back. "Because I love you." Lucile slapped him. Then she grabbed him by the collar and kissed him. 


	18. Chapter 9a: Which are you?

So the central nervous system is essentially a large central channel of information that splits off into sub-channels of more detailed information, but it never truly changes the base form of that physical stimuli. In the end, the information can only be applied to two different categories: pain or pleasure. We already know this to the point where those ignorant of this fact should not be attending this particular class unless they've advanced through this school by, how shall I say, 'illegitimate' means. But now, let us apply this knowledge to the emotional theorem of human response. It can hardly be said that this theory is new since the word 'feeling' is term applying to both physical and emotional responses to outside stimuli. Perhaps this is an indication that long ago, man was aware of this and knew it to be the truth. But that is a debate for another time. Now the emotional stimuli has been categorized as individuals with only the vaguest of connections. Envy and jealousy, for example, are each are not considered related directly except by the definition that they are all 'negative'. But what are the obvious relations we can see? Envy and jealousy are the most obvious, being so similar as to often be considered one and the same, but jealousy is derived from envy which in turn is derived from an even baser emotion. Further exploration and we can categorize emotions in approximately a dozen generations. This is consistent with the number of generations present in the central nervous system. Also it is shown that like the CNS, there are two pure emotional bases that every living creature has present in them. The most primitive of primitive emotions: fear and anger. They have also been called by the more benign terms passive and aggressive. Those are the similarities, but now let us explore the differences. First is a polar difference. For the CNS, the categorization of pain or pleasure is dependent on the outside stimuli. In other words, the flow of information is from points furthest from the main nerve stem and flow inward. But for the emotional grid, the flow is from the inside out. Anger becomes hate, hate to envy, etc. etc. Also differentiated is the base source. The CNS has both pain and pleasure and records either one or the other depending completely on the information provided. Emotional structures however, are set and are usually dominated by one of the two emotions. Either the anger has more power or the fear does. The way a person is categorized as a 'passive' or an 'aggressive' is directly connected to this theory. And a theory it is, for it has yet to be proven. This a new form of emotional categorization is still very much a controversial, but don't let that detract you from exploring its possibilities. Look inside yourself and decide 'What kind of person are you: afraid or angry?'  
  
--exerpt taken from the lecture of Figaran philosopher Prof. Eugene Targo titled "The Topography of a Man" 


	19. Chapter 10: Men being Boys

Was it two hours.three? Oh hell, who cared, it was getting boring! "Give up?" Sabin grunted. "Never!" Was the man's strained, but by no means beaten, reply. Sabin sighed, "Fine." For maybe two.or three.hell, a large amount of time, Sabin and the bodyguard had been locked in an obvious stalemate. Each arm strained to well past the normal limits of a man. Every possible vein and artery that traveled under the skin of an arm now bulged out of each contestant's determined limb like a vine wrapping around an old stone wall. So far, there had yet to be any gain or loss in all this time and the arms had stayed where they had originally been positioned for those two.no three.oh screw it! "What did you say?" The bodyguard asked heatedly. "I said, 'This is stupid!'. 'Cause it is!" The bodyguard smiled, "If you believed truly what you said, then why don't you give up." "I've been doing stupid things all my life." Sabin cheerfully replied, "Why stop now?" But it was getting boring. Oh man was it getting boring. Perhaps if their hands had actually moved one way or the other, it would be an indication that at some time in the foreseeable future, this would end. No such luck. And the fact that Sabin really wasn't having all the much difficulty keeping his position really made it all the worse. Sabin was well aware on what this contest rested, and it was most certainly not physical prowess. Strength and stamina was not what held their two arms locked in that one spot on the table. This was a battle of wills, of the spirit, and as Sabin stared into the eyes of his adversary, he was reminded of one of something Duncan once said. I've met many men whose spirit have far surpassed my own, and none of them trained in the arts. That's never been the measure of a man's spirit of course. No, they were soldiers, painters, criminals, beggars, millionaires, musicians, whatever. It didn't matter. Physical strength, artistic ability, intellectual prowess, these are just the natural ways we express our spirit. They're conduits really. Just like your training. If you ever want to know the strength inside of someone, you look in their eyes. But you already knew that, even if you don't realize it. Everyone knows that, from the moment they're born. It's my personal belief that that's the reason newborns immediately shut their eyes and start bawling! "You find this funny?" The large man bellowed. He seemed genuinely angry. Sabin immediately felt embarrassed. It was one of the most basic lessons he'd learned from Duncan, to always be careful what you do when you look into a person's eyes a monk. It's different from that of the untrained, and how you react then is how you react to looking inside someone's very being. It's personal and it can be the worst time to offend. Wars have been started that way. But it was not a king Sabin had offended, but a very imposing man with a more imposing sword. There was only one way out. "You damn right I find this funny!" Sabin shouted and brought his hand down onto the table. So quick and unexpected was his movement, that he actually had to yank the other hand down with him. "I'm tired of this. No really, I was getting so damned bored, I started seeing things. Tell me you thought this malarkey was going to end before next week! Well I just don't have that kind of patience." Sabin got up and extended his hand. "I just now realize I don't know your name. If ya don't know mine it's Sabin. How'dya do?" The man looked up into Sabin with cold eyes. He didn't smile. "I thought you understood this was no mere game, I was wrong." He slowly got up and grabbed his sword. "Now we settle as those of old did." Sabin backed off. "Hey man, don't turn something silly stupid into something dangerous stupid. A handshake will do just as well and it doesn't require nearly as much exercise. Think about it. Why sweat more when you smell bad enough already." Sabin was well aware that his toothy grin and smart-ass remarks weren't helping ease tensions, but he also was well aware that he had to make this guy forget he was a skilled fighter. The man made no response one way or the other aside from the large sword he was wielding as he advanced towards Sabin. Suddenly Sabin was struck with an idea just as his back struck the wall. He threw up his hands. "Hey! I'm unarmed! Uh.does that mean anything to you?" "You gave up that right when you gave up the game." He raised his sword over his head. Sabin's face was pure fear, but on the inside he breathed a huge sigh of relief. It worked, the bodyguard had forgotten what he was capable of. "Wait! You wouldn't hit a guy with glasses would you?" "Your not wearing glasses." "Hmm.you're right." Sabin smiled, "Neither are you." The man didn't even have the time to look surprised or puzzled by Sabin's response before he was on the ground. He opened his eyes which wandered around as they tried to find something to focus on. "Where's my sword." Was the first thing out of his mouth, and then, "What happened?" "Sword's in your hand," Sabin walked up to the prone man and knelt down next to his head, "and you just got pummeled dude. Now what's say we end this 'fore ya get hurt and I have to explain this to my brother?" Sabin extended his hand. "Oh yeah, before I forget, what's your name?" "Khiliramoja." The man got up and pushed the hand away. "You're not allowed to speak it." "Oh well in that case I'm glad ya told me it, or else it might've spilled right out without me ever knowing any better. I don't suppose you have a.I don't know.usable name?" "Khili." Sabin smiled cheerfully, "Khili? Isn't that-" Khili gave him a quick look and gripped his sword tighter. "-manly. Really manly. Yup, it just brims over with testosterone. The masculinity of that name is off the scale." "Will you shut up?" "Probably not, but I'll keep quiet for awhile. I just want to know if I can turn around and get out of here without having to kick your ass in order to do it." Khili shook his head. "How can you have such power?" "Practice!" Sabin smiled, "and a lil help by my mentor. Ever heard of a man called Duncan?" Khili laughed, "You? A student of Duncan? I'd sooner believe you destroyed the tower!" Sabin yawned, "Not by myself." Khili immediately stopped laughing. "That can't be. You have no discipline, no honor. How can someone like you achieve such power?" Sabin shrugged, "Well, I don't really know how to help you there bud. You're wrong before you even ask the question so it's really a moot point." "And just what is that supposed to mean?" "I'm not sure. I usually don't say things that intellectual." Khili sighed, "Very well." He withdrew his sword. Sabin stopped smiling. "Hey it's been fun and all, but it's time to quit. I'm serious." Khili looked at Sabin with hard eye, but they were no longer angry. "I cannot. You owe me a battle and I will have it." Sabin's face also became hard and he put himself in the proper fighting stance. "Why?" "You wouldn't understand." Sabin rolled his eyes and breathed an exasperated sigh. "You failed in your duties to protect the ambassador and have so been dishonored and the only way to redeem that honor is in a test of strength or combat against the foe that humiliated you. I'll wager the dishonor will include your entire family line and so you fight to redeem your families honor etceteras, ad nauseam." "Don't you dare mock me! You will never know what it is to have honor." "Not your honor no. But I'm not a Doman either." Khili smiled, "I did not believe anyone would recognize my kind anymore. We are very few." "Yeah well, you travel with one long enough you learn a few things about him. But I'll admit I didn't even realize who you were till just now. I thought all you guys spoke with that 'thee' and 'thou' nonsense." Khili's eyes went wide and he stopped his advance. After a moment, his eyes squinted at Sabin as one who is in debate as to whether his adversary is friend or foe. Cautiously he asked, "Tell me, was this Doman adorned in the olden armor?" "Got me. He wore plated armor if that's what you mean. His name's Cyan if you want to know. Last I heard, he has been searching the world for people like you to help rebuild his homeland." Sabin noticed no change in Khili's suspicious look towards him, but he knew that the man was in debate. "Why should I believe you? If Sir Cyan truly wishes to rebuild the kingdom, why didn't you offer the help of Figaro? Or perhaps your country does not wish to see Doma rebuilt?" "Or perhaps I'm not a king who can make those decisions. Or perhaps he was like you and too proud and stubborn to ask for aid. Tell me, would you accept our aid if you wished to restore Doma? Or better yet, why haven't you gone out on your own holy quest to restore your kingdom to its former glory." Sabin deeply regretted his last comment. The man ignited.literally. Sabin saw the man's aura flash into a bright flame, so bright in fact that he was actually forced to shield his eyes. This left him defenseless as Khili attacked. Sabin found himself with a hand gripping his neck tightly connected to an arm that was lifting him off his feet. There was a sword pointed directly between his eyes, it was shaking as well as the hand and arm that guided it, not from fear but from anger. Sabin gripped the arm that grabbed him, but no amount of strength could undo Khili's grip, the arm might just as well have been stone. Sabin stared down at Khili. Khili's eyes were wide and crazed and he spit as he spoke to Sabin. "If you ever mention my kingdom or it's people to me again, I will end you." Sabin was stronger than Khili, of that he had no question, but he'd triggered something that freed Khili's spirit almost completely. It amazed him. That such a simple comment could bring out such rage. Even Cyan never had this kind of attachment to his homeland and pride. Still he had to keep things in perspective. His life was, after all, hanging on a fairly thin thread. Sabin could feel the tenseness of the muscles and fingers that wrapped around his neck and it didn't take a monk to realize that the grip was being restrained from crushing him by only the most finite of restraint. Actually the fact that that grip was too tight that he couldn't talk was probably a blessing in disguise. Anything he uttered would probably trigger a lethal reaction. So, not knowing what else to do, Sabin conceded. He loosed his hands from Khili's arms then relaxed his body and evened his breathing. He stared at Khili with patient eyes. "You are not here for this." Sabin didn't plan on saying anything at all when the words came out from his mouth in a voice that was certainly his, and yet at the same time, it wasn't. The voice was powerful and grim, yet soft and regal. Khili's eyes changed and his grip loosened. Slowly he let Sabin to the ground. There he stood before him and Khili wasn't looking at the same person he'd challenged. In spite of himself, Sabin continued. "I will make this very clear. I am leaving now to go where I will. This is my home and you are a guest and in this foolish quest for revenge, you are abandoning your duty. Now go back to your room and do not ever keep me from my travels again. This is my kingdom and you will honor my wishes if you are truly a Doman. In return I will honor yours, but if you ever disturb me again, I will make you remember whose country you are in." Khili slowly raised his sword and pointed it at Sabin's head. Sabin didn't move. With a quick turn of the wrist and thrust, the sword was sheathed. Khili bowed and left the room. Sabin spent the evening there if it was an hour for all he could tell or remember, staring at nothing, dumbfounded and confused by his own actions. "Awright, what the hell was that?!" He ran off to find his brother.maybe he would know. Luck was with him for once, he ran through the outer courts just as the eye of the storm was passing overhead. Having not realized this until halfway across the corridor, he felt rather foolish spitting out imaginary sand and blocking nothing but air from his eyes. "Oh well, could be worse." he commented as he turned the knob to open the door. Perhaps it was fate that at that moment, the eye had passed and the storm began anew with no warning besides Sabin's own foolish comment. It was his longest trial of the day getting the door to close again. 


End file.
